


Comes Love

by Multiple_Universes



Series: Comes Love [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Burlesque Club, Burlesque AU, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Fluff, Katsuki Yuuri in Lingerie, M/M, Sexual Tension, Sexy Katsuki Yuuri, Slow Burn, Smut, Strip and Fluff, Stripper Katsuki Yuuri, alternates between fluff and sexy scenes, dita von teese Yuuri Katsuki, sweet and inexperienced Victor Nikiforov, tiny mention of abuse in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-12-17 20:06:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11858748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multiple_Universes/pseuds/Multiple_Universes
Summary: People in the audience would crane their necks to watch Yuuri sit and calmly sip his drink. He’d raise the glass to his lips and down its contents slowly, as if the gold liquid was honey and not champagne. Or he’d get a cocktail and drink it through a straw in a way that would make the men around him break out into a cold sweat. Then he’d cross his legs and recline in his seat and it didn’t matter what was happening on the stage: every eye in the room was on him. The regulars often said that no one could cross their legs like Eros did.That night he sat in his usual spot and watched the stage with unseeing eyes. Two weeks of someone leaving a bouquet of roses would make anyone curious. He’d always find them in the same spot. There were always seven of them. And they always came without a note. But Yuuri knew they were all from the same person.A Burlesque AU with Yuuri as a performer and Victor as his admirer.





	1. A Broken Heart Again

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Comes Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14871824) by [Yuusana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuusana/pseuds/Yuusana)



> I didn’t plan to write a Burlesque AU. When I saw [this wonderful post](http://runesque.tumblr.com/post/156932346479/victuuri-week-day-one-other-careers-in-which) I thought “I can’t write that”. And then it showed up on my dash again and I got curious and listened to [ Jamie Cullum’s Comes Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VzDYBdGKIdY), which was mentioned in the post, and then I knew I had to write this AU. It also helped that I really enjoyed writing Yuuri stripping in [More Please](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11259303). Naturally, the title is a reference to the song responsible for this story.  
> Also, just in case there is any confusion, I should probably mention that this fic has nothing to do with the movie Burlesque and doesn’t follow anything runesque posted, or, in other words: I made up my own plot.

This is how it always ended: with tears in the bathroom. He’d roll up in the corner between the toilet and the door, bury his head in his knees and cry.

Every time. Every single time he made the same mistake.

Why? Was he that much of an idiot? Was he that naïve?

He acted like he was in control and cool as marble, when in reality he felt like he was as fragile as glass.

Once again he’d sworn to himself that he would never fall in love again and yet here he was with a broken heart all over again.

He let himself weep, knowing that he couldn’t stop himself if he wanted to. He took what small relief the tears could give him and then got up, washed his face and did his best picking up the pieces.

It wasn’t the end of the world. Unfortunately.

Not really intending to, he’d worked out over the past two years a routine that helped him get over heartache: cry, wash the tears off, put on your battle face and head out into the world with a confident smile on your lips. Tea also helped.

He went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Then he dropped into a chair and covered his face with his hands. He could still remember the feel of his last lover’s kiss.

After denial and eventual acceptance came the stage of self-pity. He wallowed in it. Poor Yuuri. A broken heart again. Poor, poor Yuuri. What had he ever done to deserve this?

The kettle boiled and he made himself tea. After the first cup the world felt more bearable. After the second he could laugh, even if it was a bitter laugh.

Stupid Yuuri. Fell for another stupid man’s charms. Got fooled by another handsome stupid face. Stupid, stupid Yuuri.

He pulled out his phone and turned it on. He could deal with phone calls now.

It wasn’t the end of the world.

He eyed the window. Outside it was another sunny day. He could change into a plain shirt and pants and go for a walk. He could go out to the river and walk past the cyclists there. He was free. He could do whatever he wanted and no one could tell him what to do.

His phone rang.

“Yes?” he answered in a perfectly steady voice.

“Yuuri!” his friend Phichit drawled. “How are you?”

“Awful. I have a headache and I feel like I might throw up,” he lied. “I think I caught something.” _No, I’m staying home,_ he decided. _Forget the walk. Forget the river and the nice breeze. I’m staying here._

“Want to join me for lunch?” Phichit offered. “It might make you feel better.”

“I’m too tired, Phichit.”

“It’s not your fault, Yuuri.” _What do you know and who told you? How do you always know?_

“You’re right: it’s not. I’m just a naïve moron.”

“Yuuri, you’re not! You’re really not!”

Yuuri sighed. Even this conversation with Phichit had become part of the break-up ritual. “Whatever. I’m not in the mood. Sorry.”

“Yuuri, don’t lock yourself away. Please. You should spend time with other people. It will help.”

_What do you know? You have your boyfriend. You’ve had him for five years now. He’s honest and dependable. He’s really in love with you and has never tried to take advantage of you. He’s never judged you because of your job, or tried to use it as an excuse to force himself on you._

Yuuri sighed. “I want to be alone. I _need_ to be alone right now.”

“Promise me you’ll come see me, when you’re ready,” Phichit was almost pleading now. “I want to help. I don’t want you to suffer alone, Yuuri.”

“I got through this before. I’ll get through this again.”

“That’s the spirit!”

He had work in the evening, so he took his time pulling himself together. He’d tried comfort food when it happened the first time and discovered to his horror how quickly he gained weight. Afraid it would get him fired, he lost it all as fast as he could.

He was Eros and it was a nickname he was proud of. People always returned to see more after seeing him for the first time. It was just a shame that his lovers didn’t stick around for that long.

He went into the living room and dropped onto the sofa. He spent a good hour, wallowing in despair and self-pity. This further ruined his mood and he wondered if he would be in the right frame of mind for the evening.

He needed to do something or he wouldn’t be able to perform later. He gave himself another 30 minutes and then put on his usual practice song. As the opening bars started to play he tied his dressing gown on tighter and swayed his hips from side to side in time to the beat.

His fingers slid down over his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to drown out all of the memories. _Just me now. Just me. I’m on the stage. They’re all looking at me and they all want me. I’m what they crave the most. But I’m out of their reach. I will always be out of their reach._

He forced himself to think about his hands. Then he concentrated on his hips. He imagined standing in the spotlight. Bathing in that spotlight. He untied his dressing gown and let it slip onto the floor.

_Men go mad over me. They can’t think of anything else. I make them lose their ability to think rational thoughts._

It was his usual mental preparation, but he needed it now more than ever.

_It’s me. I go out there and they whisper my name. I am Eros._

It was still early in the afternoon. He stood in the middle of the room and he knew that the white lace curtains on the windows weren’t enough to keep someone on the street from seeing inside, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t as if they would see something they wouldn’t see on the stage. If the owner ever found out, he’d call it a free performance, but who would tell him?

The music played on, looping back to the beginning, but he was too lost in his thoughts to notice. He remembered the thrill of going out there for the first time and hearing the audience cheer him on. When they chanted his nickname, he felt like he could do anything.

Evening descended on the city and he put his clothes on just like he put on his seductive smile and his calm air and he headed to work like everything was under control.

He caught his reflection in the mirror by the door and nodded. It was going to be an incredible evening, better than the previous one.

But the ache was still there, so, naturally, when he discovered flowers in his room at the club his heart sank and his first instinct was to throw them out. Then he searched among them for a note, or an envelope, or anything to find out who they were from. He expected a card with the words “from your secret admirer”, but maybe there would be a name and he could return them and tell this admirer to never bother him again.

Nothing.

Just nine deep red roses in a vase, as if the sender was giving them without expecting something in return.

He wasn’t flattered. Not at all. He received flowers all the time and always with a love note and they always irritated him, sounding fake and contrived. Now here was a bouquet without a note and it made him smile.

He went up to the closet and went through the options, unable to decide what to wear. Every once in a while he’d stop and turn to look at the flowers.

 

If you were to take a stroll down Apple Street in the middle of the day when the sun was out (or even if it was raining), you wouldn’t notice much about the street. The houses were all old with identical façades, but none of them were memorable or of any real historical value. If you took the same stroll in the evening, all you’d notice would be the crowd gathered at one of the doors.

The Blue Dancer was a popular club and all its popularity was thanks to the main dancer: Yuuri Katsuki.

Every evening someone would post a program by the door and people would crowd around to see if his name was on the list of performers for that day, since (as any of the regulars would tell you) it was hard to predict which days Eros would go on stage.

Yuuri was a performer and, like many performers (or artists), depended heavily upon his mood.

Is he on the list of performers today? Yes, oh what luck! Come on in, pick a seat at any of the tables. The front is full, of course, but you’ll know to show up earlier next time, won’t you?

Ah, a big crowd today, bad luck!

The seats filled up, the lights dimmed and a single spotlight turned on, catching a seductive figure sitting on a chair in the middle of the stage. The band struck up a tune and the show began. Sometimes Yuuri sang.

He had several routines, but true connoisseurs often said that no two performances were ever the same. Yuuri couldn’t remember who had come up with the nicknames for his routines, but they were commonly referred to as “suit days” or “dress days”, as in “today will be a suit day” and everyone understood that Yuuri would walk out on stage in a black suit that would draw every eye to him, despite its relative simplicity. A “dress day” meant that Yuuri would appear before his adoring audience in a dress, which, no matter what the length was, would make him look stunning.

But, regardless of his clothes, he always gave an unforgettable performance. One day it was a pining lover, the next – someone who was hard to impress. He charmed and broke hearts and the audience swallowed it up and hungered for more.

He sat in front of the mirror in his room, preparing himself mentally for the upcoming performance. What this really meant was that he was doing his best not to think about his broken heart.

They’d given him his own room at the club. It was above the performance hall and wasn’t all that big, but it had a closet, a mirror with a chair in front of it and a bed. And it was all his. The other performers had to share rooms with each other. He got his own. He had an apartment of his own, of course, but this room meant that he could take naps between the rehearsal and the performance.

“What will it be today?” one of the other performers asked, poking her head through the doorway.

“A suit day, definitely.”

She walked in and put her hands around his shoulders. “Oh dear! A broken heart, again?” She leaned down to his ear and smiled at their reflection.

Yuuri sighed and forced a smile. “Just my rotten luck, but I’m used to it now.”

“Aww!” she hugged him. “Don’t say that! I’m sure you’ll find the right person one day.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri snorted, “in my dreams.”

She sat down beside him. “Who are the roses from?”

He’d left them on the table by the mirror. They framed his reflection wonderfully.

Yuuri shrugged. “No idea.”

“Maybe he’ll be the one. You never know.”

“I always know,” Yuuri sighed. “What time is it?”

“We have another half hour, dear.” She sat down beside him. “What would he be like, though?”

“Who?”

“The man who could win Yuuri’s heart and make him happy,” she explained.

He eyed the roses as several silent seconds passed. Maybe it was a bad idea. Maybe he should’ve thrown them out after all.

The sound of laughter and tinkling glasses came from the floor below.

Then he got up and let his dressing gown slide off his shoulders. “I don’t need much,” he said and pulled the suit out of the closet. “I’ve learned my lesson. If he’s dependable and really loves me, that’s all that matters.” He dressed slowly and with care like a knight donning his armour.

She frowned. “Oh come on, Yuuri! Surely there is more to it than that! And we’re talking about an ideal man, here. Let your imagination run wild!”

Yuuri laughed. “Alright then: a handsome man, someone who has a good figure.” He paused. “I can’t believe I’m saying this!”

“Go on,” she encouraged him. “It’s a good start!”

“What do you expect me to say? A nice bum and good with his hands?”

“Naturally! And a gentleman!”

Yuuri laughed. “You might as well add ‘treats me like a prince’ and is very loyal.”

“And rich,” she insisted. “He needs to be rich.”

“Sure, why not?” Yuuri pulled the jacket on and buttoned it up.

Another reason he had to watch his weight was that all of his clothes were really tight. They had to be to achieve the right effect, but sometimes he really hated it. He put his shoes on next, followed by his gloves. Once he was dressed, he sat down and applied his makeup.

The dancer leaned against his chair and tilted her head to admire his reflection.

“People like that don’t exist,” he told her, continuing the conversation, despite how silly he thought it was. He leaned forward and squinted at his reflection. His eyesight wasn’t very good, but he only ever wore glasses at home. He didn’t like to think what anyone from The Blue Dancer would think if they found out he wore glasses.

“They might,” she argued.

“Then they all live somewhere else and never come here.”

Yuuri looked at the bouquet of roses again. He found a pair of scissors and cut the stem of one flower shorter, so he could place it the breast pocket of his coat. Throwing one last glance at his reflection, he left. The smile on his face was less bitter this time.

 

The lights turned off and the music started to play. There were several seconds of shuffling around and then a hush descended on the audience.

The saxophone started first, followed by the piano and a light flooded the stage. A figure swayed from side to side to the music, his back to the audience.

There wasn’t a single murmur among the members of the audience. Everyone sat quietly, waiting for the performance to really begin.

Eros’s fingers slid over his gloves, pulling them off one finger at a time, taking his time. He dropped them on the stage and still his back was to the audience. The jacket came next, sliding slowly down his shoulders. The sound of it hitting the stage was drowned out by excited cheers from the crowd. He looked at them over his shoulder, his lips curling up into a smile. There was a rose in Eros’s teeth and the audience approved of it too.

The music went on, luring the listener in, turning their head, putting mad thoughts in their mind until it seemed that all handsome young men should undress before a crowd and the question that suddenly presented itself was: why didn’t they?

But the audience sat, all eyes fixed on Eros, waiting for more. He faced them now, a smile on his face as he moved to the music and slid his hands down his chest. The trick was always to take his time so they couldn’t tear their eyes away from him. A couple more seconds and they’d ask for more.

The song he usually sang to this music invited the listener to win his heart and break it again as he joked that he didn’t really have a heart. _I’m your boy_ , the song insisted.

_I’m no one’s boy,_ he thought, _and I will never be anyone’s boy._

Still there was the rose in his teeth.

He unbuttoned his vest, looking at the audience after each button, as if asking them, if he should continue. The enthusiastic comments left no doubt as to what the audience wanted.

The vest was cast aside and Yuuri walked around the stage in his shirt. He took the rose out of his teeth and held it up in his hand. There was something fragile about him in that instant, but then the smile was back on his face and the fragility was gone.

He unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall. His shirt was long and reached his thighs, making it look like he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He crossed the stage over to the piano and leaned against it, winking at the player, pulling a hand through his hair to mess it up for a bedhead look. He slid a hand down, unbuttoning his shirt while still holding it together.

He walked cat-like to the middle of the stage and let his shirt slide slowly off one shoulder, then another until he released it to drop onto the stage.

The audience whistled and still he kept dancing.

He was back at the piano, lying on top of it, the rose still in his hand.

They chanted his name and he counted to ten in his head before slipping down off the piano. His right hand slid down his chest, over his stomach and caught the top of his underwear, taking it down by a few centimeters.

The audience screamed.

No, it was no use trying to run away from his feelings. He still felt terrible. He turned away and walked off to whistles and pleas of ‘more’.

Normally he would’ve stayed longer, but not tonight.

He stepped off the stage, ignored his boss’s grumbling and returned to his room.

There were two bouquets of roses in there now. And one rose still in his hand. He left the rose on the table, got dressed and went home.

He resigned himself to another night when he would cry himself to sleep.

 

Fourteen days followed in quick succession, each indistinguishable from the other. And each time Yuuri would find a bouquet of seven roses in his room. He gave them away. He threw them out. But still they came.

It was Yuuri’s day off, but he decided to come in anyway. It was a secret arrangement between him and the owner of The Blue Dancer that Yuuri got some pay for coming in on other days and sitting at a table near the front. Especially when the act on the stage was one of the least popular ones.

People in the audience would crane their necks to watch Yuuri sit and calmly sip his drink. He’d raise the glass to his lips and down its contents slowly, as if the gold liquid was honey and not champagne. Or he’d get a cocktail and drink it through a straw in a way that would make the men around him break out into a cold sweat. Then he’d cross his legs and recline in his seat and it didn’t matter what happened on the stage: every eye in the room was on him. The regulars often said that no one could cross their legs like Eros did.

That night he sat in his usual spot (that they left empty just for him) and watched the stage with unseeing eyes. Two weeks of someone leaving a bouquet of roses would make anyone curious. He’d always find them in the same spot. There were always seven of them. And they always came without a note. But Yuuri knew they were all from the same person.

The performer on the stage sang on, and Yuuri thought about his mysterious admirer.

What did they want? What was the point?

He sighed.

What was the point of anything?

He rested his chin on his hand and tried not to think about the bills and laundry that waited at home for him.

The audience sat, mesmerized by the depth of feeling in Eros’s eyes and by the slight shudder that passed over his shoulders.

“I’d give half my life for a night with him,” a man whispered to his neighbour and got a punch to the face in response.

It was no use. Yuuri stood up, nodded at the performer and left.

The door closed behind him as a fight broke out in the audience.

He hesitated at the bottom of the stairs leading up to his room. He already knew what he would find in his room, so was there any real point in going up there and seeing them?

Maybe he should hide in his room, wait for the person to come in and ask them to stop bringing the flowers. Or at least ask them why they kept doing it.

_They need to stop. I don’t want them anymore. I don’t know what to do with them._

He’d kept the first bouquet in his apartment. It stood in a vase in his bedroom, the roses still looking fresh after two weeks.

What was it someone had told him once?

_Bouquets given with love keep for a long time._

Yuuri stopped in front of the half-open door. There was someone in his room. Should he go in? What if it was his admirer? No one else would go into his room when he wasn’t there.

He had to go in and confront them. If it was his admirer, then maybe this would be a good chance to tell them to stop.

Yuuri raised his hand to open the door when it swung forward.

A young man stepped out. He was tall with fair hair and blue eyes. There was a smile on his face.

His eyes fell on Yuuri and the smile faded as a blush crept up to his face.

Determined not to be intimidated by the man’s height and good looks, Yuuri drew himself up to his full height. “Who are you and what are you doing in my room?”

He offered his hand with a smile. “I’m Victor Nikiforov. I’m the one who keeps bringing you flowers.” Yuuri took his hand and Victor gave it a shake. “I didn’t mean to intrude. One of the dancers said it was alright if I let myself in.”


	2. A Person Who Doesn’t Exist

_Victor had stumbled into The Blue Dancer by accident. He’d been walking down the street one evening, feeling terrible when he’d spotted the lineup and decided to find out what it was for._

_Not what. Who._

_He managed to find a free seat near the front at one of the tables. Only later did he find out how lucky he’d been then._

_A figure stood with its back to the audience, one hand on the pole in the middle of the stage. He was in a black lace body suit, black gloves, a pair of black stiletto heels and what looked like nothing else._

_Victor, who’d walked in, not knowing what he was getting himself into was about to stand up and leave._

_He felt upset and lonely. He was in no mood for erotic dancing._

_The performer walked around the pole. Fingers in a black glove slid down over a perfect thigh and back up again, as the second hand remained in place, as if unable to let go of the pole. Deep red lips twisted into a dangerous smile._

_Victor felt warm and loosened his shirt._

_The performer had a perfect figure and the bodysuit complimented it really well. After he spent five minutes spinning around the pole, Victor could also say with confidence that his suit covered his privates from every angle._

_And then the performer sang,_ “Baby, can’t you see I’m calling. A guy like you should wear a warning. It’s dangerous. I’m falling,” _and Victor felt all the blood flow to his face._

“I can’t wait. I need a hit. Baby, give me it. You’re dangerous. I’m loving it. There’s no escape.” _There was a dangerous glint in those eyes. The red lips kept smiling, but the eyes remained cold._ “Too high; can’t come down; losin’ my head, spinnin’ ‘round and ‘round. Do you feel me now?” _The performer pulled a glove off and licked the back of his hand seductively, his eyes on the audience._ “Oh, the taste of your lips. I’m on a ride. You’re toxic I’m slippin’ under.” _His hands slid over his skin and down to his thighs._

_Victor imagined going up there and joining the performer, sweeping the boy off his feet and charming his heart. And then he wondered why he imagined this. He gripped the chair with both hands just in case his feet decided to take him to the stage anyway._

_“Eros is the best,” his neighbour whispered to him. “There’s no one out there who can do what he does.”_

_It didn’t take long for Victor to learn that this was true._

_And that Eros had someone in his life. Victor caught them kissing one evening just outside the club._

_It was as if someone dropped a knife into his chest. After staring with his mouth open for several minutes, he turned away and left._

_He didn’t go to the club for a whole week and swore to never go there again._

_But his dreams were full of the dancer and his suggestive gestures, and Victor knew he couldn’t stay away. He gave into the inevitable and returned. He went time and again, just content to watch._

I’m addicted to you. Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

_There was a whole world out there that was completely closed to him and all he could do was stand outside, hands pressed against the glass, and watch while Eros remained tantalizingly close and still out of reach._

Eros stood before him now, his arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow raised and a whole world of sadness in his eyes.

Here was his chance. A chance to talk face to face. Everything inside him ran for cover and he tried to hide behind a smile.

 

_“What would he be like – the man who could win Yuuri’s heart and make him happy?”_

Yuuri gave Victor a cool up and down look (or, to be more precise, it was a down, up, down look) and watched the man sweat nervously.

_“A handsome man, someone who has a good figure.”_

“May I have your autograph?” Victor asked, pulling a card and a pen out of his inside pocket and nearly dropping it as his hands shook.

“Sure,” Yuuri said, his eyes lingering on Victor’s hands for several seconds. He took the pen and signed ‘Eros’ in neat curly writing. It didn’t seem enough, though. He thought of all the roses Victor had given him and then remembered picking out a deep red lipstick earlier to match their colour. He raised the card to his lips and kissed it, leaving an impression.

“Here.” He handed it back to Victor.

“That’s perfect!” Victor exclaimed, his nervousness temporarily forgotten.

“I-I really appreciate the roses,” Yuuri said. Now it was his turn to get all flustered.

“It was nothing, really,” Victor insisted. “I like your dancing. You’re very good!”

 _And now you expect something in return, don’t you?_ Yuuri thought.

“I-I…” Victor cleared his throat. “I’d like to get to know you better.”

Yuuri knew the drill. He knew exactly what people meant by “get to know you better”. Oh, what the hell, he was getting lured in by another pretty face and he knew it. “Do you want to take me home?” he asked with a sly smile.

He waited for Victor to push him against the wall for a kiss, for Victor’s hands to slide over him and maybe even try to undress him, to be then pulled into his room where the bed waited to accept them and any of the hot sex that would inevitably follow.

None of those things happened.

“I’d love to walk you home,” Victor said.

Ah. So, he was the more discrete type, then. The type that insisted on decency while doing all kinds of dirty things behind closed doors. And actually called them “dirty things”. Yuuri had a degree in these so-called “dirty things” and could probably write an article on the subject.

He was in a very loose, sheer white shirt and he undid the top two buttons just to see Victor’s reaction.

Victor blushed and looked away.

“Let’s go, then,” Yuuri stepped up to him.

Victor offered his arm in what, to Yuuri at least, looked like a really old-fashioned gesture. But an old-fashioned gesture suited him just fine.

He remembered about the roses in his room and excused himself to go get them.

When he returned he let his free hand slip around the crook of Victor’s arm.

_“What do you expect me to say? A nice bum and good with his hands?”_

Most of the journey there passed in silence. Victor didn’t make a grab for him, even in the darker parts of the street. He didn’t make suggestive comments. Heck, he didn’t even try to make small talk and act like they were just casually taking a stroll (that always irritated Yuuri). In a way, it was honest.

It was a chilly night with a bit of a breeze and an involuntary shudder passed over Yuuri’s shoulders. He stopped to button up his top.

“You must be freezing,” Victor said and shrugged off his coat. “Here.” He helped Yuuri into it.

“What about you?”

Victor shrugged. “I’ll be fine. I’m not very sensitive to the cold.” Yuuri braced himself for some kind of innuendo and got nothing. “Should we keep going?” Victor offered up his arm again.

Yuuri pulled the coat closer about him. It still held Victor’s warmth.

_“And a gentleman!”_

Yuuri lived two streets down in a clean and “respectable” apartment building, the residents of which kept trying to get him thrown out for “damaging the reputation of the neighbourhood”, as they called it.

They went up in the elevator together, still saying nothing.

Victor let Yuuri go forward and followed him to his door, which Yuuri unlocked, feeling like something was seriously wrong.

He’d expected to be touched in some way by this point. He hadn’t expected Victor to stop in the doorway and ask for permission to come in.

“Yes, of course,” he said.

Why wasn’t Victor grabbing him and starting something? Was it the apartment? Did the respectability of the place put him off?

 _Maybe he changed his mind_ , Yuuri thought, turning away as they removed their shoes. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said.

They walked into the living room together.

“So, what do you want to do first?” Yuuri asked as Victor dropped slowly onto the couch. “Do you want me to undress myself or would you rather do it?”

“What? I… I don’t understand.”

“Well, you’re not planning on making love to me with my clothes on, are you?” He smiled as a blush spread over Victor’s face.

“Wh-why do you think I…?” Victor left the question hanging, unable to finish it.

Yuuri gave him an odd look. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Or did you expect me to give you my usual routine first? I can put some music on, if you like.” He stepped up to the couch.

“N-no!” Victor held up his hands. “I said I wanted to get to know you better.”

“Yes, I know.” Yuuri narrowed his eyes. “Hold on, you mean that _wasn’t_ a euphemism? You really want to get to know me?” He sat down next to Victor.

“Yes.” Victor stared down at his knees. “Is that… strange?”

“I don’t know. No one ever wanted that from me before. They only cared if I was good in bed or not, which I am, of course.” He put a hand on Victor’s knee, saw him blush and took it away. “You’ve never had anyone, have you?”

“N-no.”

“Ah.”

 _I wonder what he would do if I decided to strip right now._ It was a mischievous thought that had popped into his head and he resisted the urge to act on it. And then he had another idea.

“I’m going to change into something else,” he said, dropped the coat into Victor’s lap and headed for his room.

Victor didn’t follow.

It was odd. But it felt right.

_“You might as well add ‘treats me like a prince’ and is very loyal.”_

Yuuri paused in the doorway and took in the stranger sitting on his couch. It was his first proper look at Victor in good lighting. He wore a pin-striped suit with a tie. There was a watch on his wrist and a pair of his leather shoes had been left behind by the door.

_“He needs to be rich.”_

Where the hell had Victor come from?

He turned and caught Yuuri looking. “Do you want some tea? I can make some while you change.”

 _Maybe he fell from another planet._ Yuuri tried not to laugh at this mental image. “Yeah, sure.” He’d been caught off guard. He didn’t know how to act or what to do in this situation. He waved in the direction of the kitchen, muttering “help yourself” and left to change.

Five minutes later he found Victor in the kitchen, his suit jacket as well as his tie draped over the back of a chair and his sleeves rolled up. His hands were covered in flour.

“Sorry,” he apologized as soon as Yuuri came in, “I thought tea on its own might be boring, so I decided to bake a pie.”

This was the oddest date in Yuuri’s life. If it was a date. Was it a date?

He dropped into a chair, his mind full of questions.

 

How many people could say they had tea with the God of sex himself? He’d changed into casual clothes and washed off his makeup, but nothing could remove his charm. Victor watched in mild awe as he ate a slice of the pie. Eros licked the spoon and set it down on the plate once he finished.

Could Victor ask for a cold shower? Would that be weird?

_Hello, I know we just met and I only dropped by for a visit, but can I use your bathroom for a cold shower before I go?_

When Eros talked about having sex Victor felt his head spin. He’d been so surprised by this idea that he completely forgot that Eros had someone else.

 _I dare not,_ he thought. _Of course_ you’re _good, but I have no idea what to do. I’ll only humiliate myself and you’ll never want to talk to me again._

“I want to be your friend,” he suddenly blurted out and felt like an idiot.

He knew he was consistently doing and saying the wrong thing, but he had no idea what the right thing to do was.

Eros’s eyes widened and then his face was illuminated by a big beautiful smile. “Of course.”

Victor felt as if some barrier had gone down and relaxed in his seat. “So I can drop by and visit you, right?”

“If you call me by my proper name,” he said and stood up. “I’m Yuuri.” He took Victor’s hand and they shook hands again.

“Nice to meet you, Yuuri.”

Eros, no _Yuuri_ , laughed. “And you, Victor.” He collected the dishes and put them in the sink. “This pie is really good,” he went on, his back to Victor. “I’ll find you a box to take it home.”

“Keep it,” Victor said. “I made it for you.”

“I can’t… you really should take it.”

He didn’t like it after all, then. Victor suppressed a sigh. He didn’t have to be polite. Why didn’t he like it? Was it the cherries?

Victor collected his pie and left, feeling heartbroken.

He hadn’t made the good first impression he’d hoped for.

 

Yuuri gathered what he had left of Victor’s bouquets in his bedroom, thinking about the ones he’d thrown out.

Why – no, _how._ How could he have thrown them out?

Now he had a face and a name to tie to the flowers. He sat with his chin in his hand and stared at the roses while replaying their strange first meeting.

He should’ve kept the pie. It was like nothing he’d ever tasted before.

But he knew that if he’d kept it he’d have eaten it all in one go. And then he’d have the problem with his weight again.

So Victor was a good cook too. Or, at the very least he could bake amazing pies.

Yuuri closed his eyes and imagined those hands reaching for his face.

They hadn’t done anything. They’d barely even touched. He remembered the expression on Victor’s face as he asked to be Yuuri’s friend and the feeling of relief the question had brought with it. The worry and anxiety that had tied his stomach into one big knot evaporated with that question.

Suddenly all of the odd behaviour made sense: Victor just wanted to be his friend.

He didn’t have to worry about more heartache. He didn’t have to keep pretending.

He didn’t have to be Eros. He could just be Yuuri.

For the first time he met someone who didn’t demand anything from him.

_“People like that don’t exist.”_

_Oh God, I think I just met someone who doesn’t exist._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the small chance that people reading this don’t know the songs Yuuri sings, I’ll do my best to provide links to them. This chapter: [Toxic by Britney Spears](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCRT8IItGpw).


	3. Apples and Buttons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you requested a song, I apologize if I don’t use it right away. I promise I will. I just need to find a good spot for it to work better with the plot. And I am still taking song requests, if anyone's wondering.

Maybe he’d imagined it all. That was the first thought that came to Yuuri’s mind when he woke up the next morning. Maybe it had all been a deluded dream brought on by a broken heart and loneliness.

He turned over in his bed and saw the roses in his room.

He remembered the autograph and covered his face with his hands. It was a bit over-the-top, but he’d been playing the part when he did it. Too often he’d find himself playing the part, throwing off his usual anxieties and just being Eros. Sometimes he wondered what would happen if he did it for too long. Would he forget who he really was and just turn into someone else?

The thought was strange enough to force him out of bed and send him off to find something else to think about.

 

Victor hung up with an exasperated sigh. He knew it would be a difficult conversation, but it had gone even worse than he’d anticipated. He rubbed his forehead with his hand.

And then he smiled. Sure, he’d had a fight and, sure, it had gone really badly, but he’d won. He’d gotten his way. No one could take that away from him.

And now it was time to do something that would raise his mood.

He reclined in his chair and stared up at the wall where he’d hung up his poster of Eros. He’d bought it off the owner of The Blue Dancer for a ridiculous amount, but it was worth every cent.

Eros sat in a chair, wearing nothing but deep red lipstick and a pair of heels. His legs were spread far apart and his hands rested on the chair, covering his privates from view. One perfect eyebrow was arched up and there was a sly smile on his face as he regarded the viewer.

The owner promised Victor a copy of the second poster, which had Eros in the same position, but this time with his back on full display as he smiled over his shoulder. Victor had seen it at the club. He imagined putting them side by side and then his brain tried to paint an image of the first poster without Eros’s hands in the way.

All of the blood rushed to his face and Victor scrambled off his chair and out of his room.

 

The audience at The Blue Dancer would’ve been surprised to learn that Yuuri (after a bit of delaying) did the laundry, washed his apartment and watered the plants, just like everyone else.

That Sunday morning found him in a dressing gown with a watering can in his hand, standing on the balcony and leaning over a pot of geraniums. He was humming one of his songs under his breath.

It was quiet, apart from Yuuri’s humming, and the birds singing, which sadly weren’t trying to accompany him. Yuuri raised his eyes and saw a figure walking on the other side of the street.

He smiled as he recognized who it was.

The figure waved.

Yuuri waved back.

Victor crossed the street to stand just under Yuuri’s balcony. “May I come up?”

“Of course!”

Victor had a bouquet of roses in his arms. “Save some water for these.”

Yuuri laughed. “I will.”

The moment Victor entered the building Yuuri remembered what he was wearing and, with a loud “oh!”, he rushed back inside to change.

 

They sat at the little table on the balcony, drinking tea. Yuuri caught Victor smiling at him and smiled back, tapping his fingers absent-mindedly against the cup in his hands.

Victor watched him raise his cup up to his lips and drink from it. The gesture had been innocent, but Victor couldn’t help but think of Eros when he saw it. He stared down at his tea and tried to stop wishing he could switch places with Yuuri’s cup. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t have much luck in this.

“You don’t need to get me flowers,” Yuuri said, nodding at the big bouquet on the table. “I… I mean you don’t need to keep getting me flowers.” No, it still sounded wrong. He lowered his eyes and wished he hadn’t said anything.

Victor smiled. “I’m sorry if they offend you in some way, I’ll get rid of them.” He stood up.

“No, no! They don’t offend me at all!” Yuuri exclaimed and Victor sat back down. “They flatter me. I-I’m flattered. Thank you.” He joined his hands on his lap and stared down at them.

They sat in silence for several seconds.

Yuuri got up and bent over the bouquet. “Where do you get them? The first ones you gave me are still fresh.” He slid his fingers over the petals and looked up.

Victor broke out into a coughing fit. Yuuri rushed to knock him on the back.

“I-I… I choked on my tea. Sorry…” Victor managed to say.

Eros’s hands were on his back and on his shoulder, making it harder to breathe. The poster sprang up treacherously in Victor’s memory. He forced a smile. “I-I’m alright now, honest.”

Yuuri dropped back into his chair. He sat staring at the roses with a thoughtful expression on his face while Victor wondered what he could possibly be thinking of.

The performer was mentally going through his shopping list, wondering if he had enough food in the fridge to procrastinate groceries by one more day.

“Is something wrong?” Victor finally asked.

“Hmm?” Yuuri awoke from thoughts about apples and gave Victor a surprised look. “What? Oh no. I… I…” he blushed. “I was just thinking I need to get groceries.”

“Oh. I expected to hear something else. I admit I’m a little bit surprised,” Victor said.

“What?” Yuuri asked, getting defensive. “Is someone like me not allowed to think about boring things like groceries?”

“No,” Victor looked taken aback at this outburst, “you had a dreamy expression on your face, so I assumed you were thinking about something pleasant.” He paused. “Do you like grocery shopping?”

“I don’t think anyone does.”

Several seconds passed in silence and then they both burst out laughing.

Victor calmed down first and rose to his feet. “Let’s go, then.”

“Where?”

“Groceries!”

 

Yuuri’s first discovery that day was that Victor actually enjoyed grocery shopping. First he insisted on writing down a shopping list and then, once they set off, he ticked the items off as they bought them.

It didn’t take long for Yuuri to make a second discovery: Victor wasn’t a local. He was just there on a visit and he admitted as much about halfway into the shopping list.

“I’m staying with a friend,” he said. The smile on his face widened and Yuuri wondered if there was something special about his friend.

Yuuri found himself wishing the smile had been for him. Then he shook his head and raised an apple to take a better look at it.

“No, no, these ones are better!” Victor exclaimed. “Look at their colour!” He held one out to Yuuri and Yuuri’s fingers closed over his.

Now Victor’s smile _was_ for him.

They both held on to the apple, as if they’d forgotten how to let go.

Someone somewhere shouted something and Victor’s hand slipped away and out from Yuuri’s grasp, leaving him holding on to the apple alone.

“Three more, I think,” Victor said, turning away.

Yuuri watched Victor and tried to guess what he did for a living. He found, to his surprise, that he could imagine Victor in almost any profession. The man went on about food with such a passion that Yuuri immediately assumed he was a chef. He did, after all, make Yuuri an amazing pie. Then Victor made an off-hand remark about dancing and Yuuri could see him as a dancer too. He certainly had the figure of someone who didn’t lie around and do nothing. And so the list went on.

Yuuri stepped on something small and his feet slipped out from under him.

An outstretched arm caught him and Yuuri looked up into Victor’s face.

“Careful,” he said softly.

 _I can ask_ , Yuuri thought as his heart hammered in his chest. But it felt like a very personal question. Yuuri pulled away slowly and was immediately interested in something far away.

His cheeks were burning.

 

Arms full of groceries, they headed back to Yuuri’s apartment where Victor impressed Yuuri with really dramatic cooking, which culminated in a delicious lunch.

“Thank you,” Yuuri said when they finished.

Victor rested his chin in his palm. “I need to go now, but I’ll see you in the evening.”

Yuuri nodded.

They got up and, on a sudden impulse that occurred to both of them, pulled each other into an embrace.

“I’ll see you at the club,” Victor said without any innuendo, or implied meaning, as if he’d merely said “I’ll see at 4.”

Yuuri nodded and let go. He walked Victor to the door and then rushed out to the balcony to wave him goodbye.

He was perfect. Even if the whole thing was nothing more than one giant act designed to lure him in, he was still perfect.

Yuuri dropped into a chair in the kitchen and stared at the new bouquet. And then raised one of the flowers to his lips.

His heart had never raced the way it had when Victor had caught him.

The clock on the wall told him it was two in the afternoon and time for a rehearsal.

 

“ _I’m telling you loosen up my buttons, baby._ ”

Eros walked out onto the stage with several confident strides. There were two girls on either side of him and they all walked to the beat of the song. They stopped, half-turned to the audience, as if to give them a chance to admire them from the side, and, as many of the regulars would’ve agreed, it was quite a view.

“ _But you keep fronting_

_Saying what you going to do to me_

_But I ain't seen nothing_.”

They were all dressed in the same black clothes: a loose long-sleeved sweater that opened up at the top and a pair of gold shorts, or was it a short skirt?

All five of them dropped to the ground in unison and spun their legs around.

Ah. They were shorts after all.

“ _Hardly the type I fall for._ ”

The dancers stood up and pulled their sweaters off. They offered them to the audience, who reached for them eagerly, but then threw them onto the stage behind them.

There were now five people on the stage in gold shorts and crop tops.

“ _I like when the physical_

 _Don't leave me asking for more._ ”

They moved around the stage, singing, dancing and swapping places as five more performers came out onto the stage, carrying chairs only to leave them and walk away again.

But the audience didn’t see the oh-so-clever trick used to bring the chairs out: their attention was focused on the hands of the dancers. Five right hands pushed the hem of five crop tops up a few inches while five left hands pulled the shorts down ever so slightly.

The audience shouted for more.

“ _What I want to do is spring this on you._ ”

The dancers stepped back, claiming a chair each. Five perfect legs rose in unison to rest on the chairs and then each traced their thighs out with their hands while keeping their eyes on the audience.

“ _Back up all of the things that I told you._ ”

The girl on the far right pulled her top off to reveal the bra underneath. It was black and lined with lace. The girl on the far left then revealed she was dressed the same way. The other two girls followed.

“ _You been saying all the right things all night long._ ”

Eros stepped forward. There was a dangerous look on his face as he slid his top up, his hands revealing more skin as the audience screamed louder. He raised an eyebrow and lowered the top again.

The audience groaned.

“ _But I can't seem to get you over here to help take this off._ ”

Eros’s hands slid down over his stomach and caught the top of his shorts.

If anyone in the room had been in the right mental state to wonder where the buttons mentioned in the song were, they would’ve gotten their answer then: Eros undid the top button and then the second one.

The audience went silent. The music stopped playing. The dancers stopped singing.

The shorts slid down several inches to reveal the straps of Eros’s underwear.

Not a single person in the room drew a breath.

In complete silence Eros took off his shorts. The screams that followed were nothing compared to the screams he got when he turned his back to the audience.

Eros slid his fingers over the straps of his underwear and rested his hands on his waist.

The music resumed as did the singing.

“ _Baby, can’t you see_

 _How these clothes are fitting on me._ ”

One by one the girls stepped forward and removed their shorts while the others danced around their chairs.

“ _Take a chance to recognize that this could be yours_.”

They jumped onto the chairs, their knees bent and their backs to the audience. They swung their knees apart before jumping off, spinning the chairs around and jumping into the same position, this time facing the audience.

“ _I’m telling you loosen up my buttons baby_.”

They spread their legs apart slowly, just as the song came to the end and joined their knees on the last note.

The band stopped playing and they got up to stand with their backs to the audience, as if giving them a chance to compare their backsides and choose which they preferred (if they could invent some sort of criteria, which would help them distinguish between the available options).

Then Eros looked over his shoulder with a smile and pulled off his top.

He walked around his chair and put his chest on full display. He raised one leg and coiled it around the chair. The audience whistled.

The other dancers raised their hands to their backs and undid their bras. They kept their backs to the audience as they dropped their bras all at the same time.

Eros released the chair, sliding his hand over it as he backed away and blew a kiss. He turned around and left as they chanted his name. The girls turned around at the same time, blew kisses and the curtain dropped.

It took several seconds for the vision full of skin, straps and pasties to properly sink into the audience’s minds and they exploded into applause and whistles.

 

Victor’s phone rang as soon as he left his seat.

“Listen, Victor, you know I support you in everything you do,” the voice on the other end said without so much as a hello, “but even I have to ask if you’re sure about this. I mean I’m all for grand gestures done for the sake of love, but is he really worth it?”

“He is,” Victor answered just as he reached Yuuri’s door and prepared to knock on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in this chapter is [Loosen up my Buttons by The Pussycat Dolls](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VCLxJd1d84s)


	4. Sinkin' Soon

Perfect people didn’t exist. Yuuri knew that all too well. Everyone had at least one flaw and he wondered what Victor’s was.

But if Victor did have a flaw, did it really matter what it was?

Yuuri considered this as he pulled the pasties off his chest. No, he decided as he caught the eye of his reflection in the mirror, it didn’t.

There was a knock on the door.

He pulled on his dressing gown. “Come in,” he said and turned to face the door.

It was Victor. Of course it was. Who else would actually knock? Everyone – and, yes, that did include _everyone_ – everyone simply barged in, never caring what they could be barging in on.

But Victor actually knocked.

“That was amazing, Yuuri!” There was that enthusiasm again and Yuuri felt himself blush.

“Thank you.” He accepted yet another bouquet from Victor with a smile.

And then he wondered what he could do with so many roses.

He was still wondering about this as Victor walked him home. And not just home but all the way to his door where he stopped.

“I won’t keep you awake. I know you need to rest,” Victor said.

Yuuri opened his mouth to argue, changed his mind and said, “Good night,” instead.

“Good night! I’ll see you tomorrow evening, if that’s alright with you.”

“I’m not performing tomorrow,” Yuuri said, “but I’ll meet you at the club.”

Victor nodded and left. Yuuri watched him wait for the elevator and then turn to give a farewell wave before stepping inside.

Feeling a little baffled, Yuuri entered his apartment. It wasn’t until he came to his bed that he realized how right Victor was.

He was exhausted.

 

The following evening Victor found Eros at a table near the front, lounging in his chair. He was in something long and complicated that may have been a dress and may have been something else. Whatever it was, Eros’s right leg stuck out from between its folds, revealing a black silk stocking that went up to his thigh. The dress slipped off one of his shoulders and Victor stood mesmerized.

One perfect hand rose and adjusted the dress.

On the stage another number ended and the audience applauded politely.

The waiter brought Eros a drink on a tray and Victor wished he could leave.

He couldn’t explain why he sweated nervously when Eros drank, but he did and he wasn’t sure he could survive watching Yuuri drink another cocktail through a straw.

Yuuri turned his head and spotted Victor.

Clutching the bouquet to his chest like a shield Victor headed for the table. People turned in their seats to watch him approach Yuuri.

“C-can I join you?” Victor asked.

Yuuri nodded.

He almost dropped into his chair and held out the roses.

Yuuri accepted them with a smile and another nod. He held them for several seconds before laying them down on the table in front of him. Then he raised his glass and drank.

Victor felt a shiver crawl down his spine.

On the stage another number began. A lady started to sing and Victor’s eyes darted briefly to her before returning to Yuuri’s face.

The new performer had more jewellery than clothes (not that Victor had looked at her long enough to notice). Strings of pearls circled her neck and went down over her breasts which were barely covered by the dress she wore. She had lots of bracelets on her bare arms and even a few bracelets around her ankles. As she sang – loudly and with contagious enthusiasm – she shook her head, letting her bright red hair fly into her face.

“ _Boy, I will be your sexy silk_.”

Yuuri lowered the glass and shifted closer to Victor. His dress fell off one shoulder only to be caught in the crook of his arm, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“ _Wrap me around, round, round, round._ ”

Victor smiled brightly, as everything inside him panicked. _What do I do now? My brain feels so empty! What do I say?_

“ _I’ll be your pussycat licking at your milk_.”

Yuuri’s lips were on the straw again and Victor felt his mouth go dry. Dark eyes caught his and he couldn’t help feeling like he was sinking inside them.

Yuuri blinked and broke the spell. He pushed the empty glass away. “I’m glad you came,” he said and there was an innocent smile on his face. “How was your day?”

“Good.” Something released him and he could finally breathe freely. “I… uh…” He remembered where he’d been before coming to the club. “My friend… he took me to this chocolate factory and they make this amazing chocolate! I brought some for you to try.” He fished the box out of his pocket. It was wrapped in deep red paper and tied with a gold bow. “If you like it, I can buy you more. I… I can make chocolates too,” he added.

Cooking and baking were two of the passions of his life. Until he met, Yuuri, that is. Now they felt more like casual hobbies.

“Can I try it now?” Yuuri asked.

Victor nodded. “Of course!”

With slow, careful movements, Yuuri unwrapped the box and opened it to reveal a dozen identical little chocolates. His face lit up with a child-like delight as he picked one up and placed it in his mouth.

“ _You’ll have to seduce me, nibble and bite_.”

The smile froze on Victor’s face.

“It’s delicious!” Yuuri said. He shifted in his chair and his leg brushed against Victor’s. “And you said you can make these?” he asked, leaning his head on his arm.

Victor saw the fascination in Yuuri’s eyes. “Of course,” he answered, “and I can add a filling too. What would you like?”

Yuuri lowered his eyes. “I can’t… I can’t eat many … Just… um a few.”

The singer was really getting into her song now, making all kinds of exclamations, but maybe it was just the audience. Whistles sounded all around them as she sang on, “ _Whoa, whoa go. Slow baby don’t_.”

And Victor understood. Suddenly what happened with the pie appeared in a different light. Of course! Why hadn’t it occurred to him earlier? Yuuri was a performer so he had to watch his weight! He felt himself relax.

“I also know several very good recipes for fruit and vegetable dishes,” he said.

Yuuri’s face lit up with another smile. “I’d like to try some.”

On the stage the performer let out an ecstatic scream and screamed, “ _I think I like you!_ ”

“Um… how was your day?” Victor asked. “Did you get a chance to rest?”

 

Yuuri wished he could tell Victor something interesting, but his day had been so dull that he ran out of things to say very quickly.

Somewhere in another world there was a woman singing and dancing on stage. Somewhere in another world he was Eros. But not in this world.

In this world he was sitting next to the universe’s only perfect person and had no idea how to talk to him.

The audience’s screams got louder. Victor didn’t even bat an eyelid. The only glance he’d thrown at the stage was completely uninterested.

“She’s very good,” Yuuri said, for nothing better to say. He smiled at the performer and she winked at him over her shoulder.

“You’re much better,” Victor told him.

Yuuri was flattered. Maybe it wasn’t loyalty, but he was going to think of it as such.

“ _Whoa boy you’re gonna win! Say ‘yeah, yeah, yeah’ you’re under my skin. I got butterflies within!_ ” The performer gave a long ecstatic gasp that was almost repeated by the audience. “ _I think I love you!_ ”

Yuuri’s hand slipped over Victor’s, his fingers brushing against his knuckles. “Let’s go somewhere else,” he suggested. _And maybe I’ll be able to focus on our conversation._

The number ended and the audience exploded with enthusiasm.

“Where do you want to go?” Victor had to lean towards Yuuri to be heard and Yuuri felt his breath on his face.

Yuuri waited for the excitement to die down. He saw the owner signal him. That evening’s entertainment program was almost done. “Anywhere,” he answered.

He got up and let the dress fall from his shoulders to reveal all the black lace he wore underneath. The dress tumbled right into Victor’s arms. Yuuri winked at the audience and walked out, expecting Victor to follow.

 

Victor found Yuuri in his room. “Here,” he said, holding the dress out. It still held the warmth from Yuuri’s body.

“Just drop it on the bed,” Yuuri said dismissively.

He turned away, reached for his back and sighed. “Can you unbutton me, please?”

“S-sure.” Victor stepped up behind him. After some hesitation, he raised his hands and undid the buttons of Yuuri’s top.

“Thanks,” Yuuri slipped it off.

Suddenly Victor realized that the performer was going to undress right next to him. He turned away and stared at the floor.

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri whispered after a while.

“Sorry, do you want me to step out of the room while you change?”

“Oh!” Yuuri laughed softly. “I guess I got so used to undressing in front of others I didn’t think about it. Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No, not at all!” Victor insisted, his eyes on his shoes.

He felt Yuuri put a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“You don’t need to thank me.” He felt the blood rush to his cheeks. He had that feeling again: that feeling that he’d done something wrong.

Yuuri pulled his hand away and it was quiet in the room while he presumably changed.

“There’s a nice bridge not far from here,” Victor said, trying to fill the silence. He wasn’t sure he wanted to think about the fact that he was in the same room as Eros while he undressed. “We can go there,” he finished lamely.

“I’m ready,” Yuuri said.

Victor turned to find him dressed in a long sweater and a pair of pants. He held out his hand and Yuuri took it.

“Let’s go see your bridge,” Yuuri whispered, squeezing Victor’s hand with both of his.

It was an innocent enough sentence, but for some reason it made Victor blush. He nodded.

Outside the fresh air calmed him down and he felt like his usual self again. He chattered on about the bridge and what he’d heard about it. It wasn’t anything special, but he’d been told there was a nice view from it.

Yuuri held on to his hand and listened. It was dark and his expression was hard to read, but Victor was sure he was smiling.

He was probably still smiling when they got there.

And then Victor realized that it was too dark to admire the view from the bridge and his own face fell. “Sorry, I forgot that it was dark outside already.” The words sounded stupid as soon as he said them.

Yuuri laughed. “But you can see the stars nicely.” He pointed up at the sky. “Look!”

“Yeah…”

They stared at them for some time.

“You know,” Victor admitted, “I have absolutely no idea what any of them are called.”

“Me neither.”

They laughed at that too. Yuuri wrapped his arm around Victor’s and leaned in until their shoulders touched.

Afterwards when Victor lay in bed he remembered that feeling of warmth, as if they’d both been wrapped in a thick blanket. And the sudden knowledge that the only stars that he cared about were the ones he spotted in Yuuri’s eyes. He stared up at his ceiling and thought about them.

The thought of those eyes pushed all memories of Eros out of his mind.

 

When Victor arrived at the club the next evening a performer came up to him and told him to follow her. He thought she’d lead him to Yuuri, but instead she brought him to a seat near the front.

“Eros asked that this seat be reserved for you,” she told him. “We’ll keep it for you, even if you come late.” She paused. “Unless you break up with him, of course.”

Victor dropped into what was apparently his chair, not knowing what to say to that. _I’m not his boyfriend!_ He protested in his mind and then his blood ran cold.

Eros already had a boyfriend. But where was he? Why hadn’t Victor seen him around the place? And, most importantly of all, what would he do when he found out that Eros, no _Yuuri_ , had been spending his time with Victor going on what some might call dates. He promised himself to talk to Yuuri about this and really intended to until Eros started to perform and Victor forgot about everything.

The other seats were already full, but there was nothing surprising about that: it was Eros’s day.

The pianist started to play as the lights dimmed and the curtains were pulled apart by Eros.

“ _We're an oyster cracker on the stew,_ ” he began as soon as he stepped up to the microphone. His hands caressed the stand like they might a lover as he went on.

He was in a long white feathered coat that reached down to his knees and a pair of heels. It was hard to tell if he wore anything under that coat. Knowing Eros, it was very possible that he was almost completely naked underneath it.

The thought of Eros naked under that coat made all of the blood rush to Victor’s face.

“ _And the honey in the tea._ ” He licked his lips, closing his eyes. “ _We’re the sugar cubes, one lump or two in the black coffee_.” He opened his eyes slowly and pulled the bottom of the coat up with one hand, revealing two perfect bare knees. He dropped the coat to cover them up again and went on singing.

Victor’s eye was drawn by Yuuri’s fingers as their tips slid up over the microphone stand.

“ _But we’re gonna be sinkin’ soon,_ ” Yuuri half-whispered. The coat slid off to reveal two bare shoulders. “ _In a boat that’s built of sticks and hay we drifted from the shore with a captain who’s too proud to say that he dropped the oar_.” At that the coat dropped on the stage. Eros made an expression of mock surprise and pretended to cover himself.

The audience laughed.

_He’s naked! Oh my god! He’s actually, actually…_

Eros shone under the stage lights and Victor realized that he was in a rose gold dress. The performer slid his hands over his body and onto his hips, showing off how well the dress suited him. Victor breathed freely again.

“ _We’re gonna be sinkin’ soon_ ,” Eros sang on and on, sliding his dress up his thigh, revealing more skin slowly to excited whistles from the audience.

Up and up the dress went.

_Will he?_ Victor kept thinking, his mouth going dry. _Will he?_

The dress stopped just as Victor braced himself for the sight of Eros’s underwear. Eros released it, letting the dress fall back.

Victor was starting to think that the song was about him and he was the one who was sinking. Quite possibly with Eros. And probably with the lone horn player who stood up to play his solo as soon as Eros stopped singing.

The musician beamed at Eros as soon as he finished and got a kiss blown towards him for his efforts.

“ _Everybody hold your breath, ‘cause we’re gonna be sinkin’ soon_.” Victor was prepared to swear that no one in the audience was breathing anymore. He certainly wasn’t. “ _And down and down we go_.”

And down and down the dress went. Here came a perfect chest, and now they could fully see the torso that an artist would die to sculpt, hips, thighs…

It was hard to form any kind of thought. He tried to focus on the fingers as they slid over those thighs.

What was that voice? Oh, right, Eros was still singing.

“ _The sugar cubes, one lump or two? No thank you, none for me._ ” A pair of dark red lips formed each word and Victor knew that, in theory, he could understand what they meant, but at the moment he had no idea what the song was about. “ _Well, we’re gonna be sinkin’ soon_.” Eros turned away as the song reached the end.

He stood a little apart from the microphone with his head slightly lowered. His hand pulled the microphone back to him and he repeated the last line without music this time and gave a long sigh.

It was completely quiet after that apart from Yuuri’s heels clicking as he walked away.

The audience breathed a collective sigh.

Victor hesitated before following Yuuri. He found, to his great surprise, that he couldn’t get up from his chair. His knees were shaking and he had trouble breathing. How long had he held his breath for? Too long, that much was certain.

Finally he managed the difficult task of getting up and ran to Yuuri’s room. Well, not so much ran as stumbled.

He was still in a daze, as if he’d had too much to drink. He thought of Yuuri’s red lips, his bare chest and the way his hand slid over his inner thigh after he took the dress off.

He had to stop and cling to the wall as he caught his breath for a minute.

After a few minutes of slow deep breaths he kept going.

He hesitated at the door, swallowed and knocked.

“Come in.”

Yuuri stood in front of the mirror, still wearing what he had on when he left the stage and regarded his reflection critically.

Victor lowered his eyes. “I… I’m sorry. I’ll come back later.”

“Hmm?” Yuuri must’ve turned around to look at him because Victor could feel the performer’s eyes on him. “Sorry. I’ll put something on.”

Victor raised his eyes and watched Yuuri throw on his dressing gown before dropping into his chair.

“Do you,” Victor licked his lips, “do you have another chair? I think I need to sit down.”

“Just sit on the bed.”

No, no, that wouldn’t do at all. “That’s ok. I’ll stand.”

Yuuri got up. “You can sit here.”

Victor took the chair with a quiet “thank you” and watched as Yuuri lay down on his side on the bed.

Then he remembered about the roses he was still holding. “I brought you flowers.”

“Thank you.” There was a smile on Yuuri’s lips and Victor wondered what was on his mind.

Did anyone ever know what was on Eros’s mind?

At that moment Victor didn’t know what was on his own mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two songs this time:   
> [ Sexy Silk by Jessie J](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YVDE-LCL7L4)  
> [ Sinkin' Soon by Norah Jones](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gYywXhixVW0)


	5. Makkachin

“How do you feel about dogs, Yuuri?” Victor asked.

It was mid-afternoon on one of those days when the summer seems to be back, but you know it won’t last. It was warmer than usual outside and that’s exactly where Yuuri was, taking a walk.

He’d slept in that morning after the performance the night before. Not because it had been a difficult one, but because he stayed up late, unable to fall asleep.

 

_He saw the effect his performance had on Victor and waited patiently for him to calm down. When several minutes of breathing slowly didn’t help he told his friend that there were showers further down the hall he could use._

_Victor apologized and claimed he would be fine._

_He found it flattering to see someone so affected by his performance. Victor was quiet for a long time afterwards. He kept his head lowered as they walked to Yuuri’s apartment._

_Yuuri considered taking Victor’s hand and kept trying to pluck up the courage to reach for it. But was it a good idea? He kept asking himself._

_Just as he decided that, yes, it was definitely a good idea, Victor started talking about a trip he went on a couple of weeks ago. It sounded as if he’d picked the first thing that came to mind to talk about._

_“Zurich is a nice city,” he went on._

_Yuuri nodded. He’d been there a few times himself. It was, after all, only a train ride away._

_It didn’t look like Victor was going to stop. He got so carried away he didn’t even notice Yuuri slipping his number into his pocket._

_Victor went on until they got to Yuuri’s door, but then he excused himself and ran off._

And now he was calling Yuuri, having apparently found Yuuri’s note.

_Call me_ , Yuuri had written. He’d debated how to sign it, but ended up leaving an imprint of his lips again. He’d meant to slip the number in after the chocolates and only found his chance the next day.

He wanted to meet Victor outside of the club and not just because Victor dropped by his apartment and managed to catch him while he was there.

And now he was calling. Right.

“Why?”

Something leapt and knocked Yuuri off his feet and then it licked his face.

“Down, boy.”

Yuuri laughed and smiled up into a dog’s face.

“Sorry, I meant to warn you, but he ran off towards you before I could.” Victor’s face swam into view above the dog.

“What’s… what’s his name?” Yuuri asked as the dog continued to lick his face.

“Makkachin,” Victor answered.

“Hello, Makkachin.” Yuuri tried to pet the dog and got his face licked some more instead.

Victor pulled Makkachin away and Yuuri rose to his feet, brushing himself off. Only then he remembered that he’d left the house in his worst shirt and least flattering pair of shorts. He was suddenly very self-conscious of his sloppy appearance and blushed from embarrassment.

“S-sorry, I didn’t think I’d… I would’ve dressed nicer if…” He stammered to a halt and threw a sideways look at the other man.

Victor looked as immaculate as always.

“I forgot something at home,” Yuuri lied. “Do you mind if we go get it?”

“Let’s go.”

They returned to Yuuri’s apartment with Makkachin in tow.

Victor sat down in the living room while Yuuri left to change. He’d left Victor some old magazines to flip through while he fixed his hair and decided on a look.

When he walked out he was in a long loose top with an open back and which was long enough to cover his very short shorts.

Victor smiled at him. “It suits you.”

“Thanks.”

Makkachin lay curled up at Victor’s feet.

Victor held up one of the magazines. “I didn’t know you did lingerie ads!”

Yuuri smiled even as the blood rushed to his face. “Yes. There’s more.” He went through the pile of magazines on the table. He wasn’t sure why he kept them, but throwing them out felt wrong for some reason.

“This one probably turned out the best,” he said, flipping to the most modest of them all.

“Th-this one is my favourite,” Victor stammered out and showed Yuuri the most seductive of the bunch.

The photo was of Yuuri lying on a bed in nothing but a lace thong. One half of the ad had him lying on his back, face flushed and mouth partially opened as his hands were raised in surrender and in the other half – he lay on his stomach, looking back over his shoulder playfully with a bra in his teeth. The caption read “Versatile, no matter what he likes”.

Yuuri blushed, feeling embarrassed of that ad for the first time in his life. He was used to his past lovers ogling that ad and then telling him which of the two poses they preferred. Victor was studying it intensely, as if it was a work of art at an exhibit.

Yuuri tried not to remember what it had been like, snapping those photos, how the photographer was very obviously tired of taking pictures of Yuuri in different seductive poses and how relieved they both were when it was all over.

“C-can I…” Victor began, licked his lips and kept going, “Can I keep these?”

“Why?” Yuuri asked, thrown off by this question.

“I-I like them.” Victor’s face was really red now.

“They’re not that great,” Yuuri said. “If you want something really scandalous, there is my one appearance in the Playboy magazine.”

“You appeared in the Playboy magazine?” Victor whispered in awe.

He was actually amazed by this!

Yuuri chuckled. “Well, yes, The Blue Dancer is a club with some fame and when I made my debut they wanted a few photos. They only published one, though.” He waved it off absently.

“Can I see it?”

Yuuri dug it up from the pile of magazines and opened up the two page spread of a photo of him half-lying, half-sitting on his side with his back to the viewer. He looked over his shoulder, repeating a pose that had appeared in several paintings in the past. One eyebrow was raised playfully (“like a cocked gun” one of his lovers had joked once). One hand rested casually on his thigh, while the other supported his weight. He was in heels and a pair of transparent skin-toned tights. There was a rose in his mouth. His legs were slightly bent, just enough to lend an interesting curve to his body and still show off the black seductive stripe on each leg of his tights that ran along the back of his legs from his buttocks to his heels.

He saw Victor stare at the photo. There was that odd look on his face again, a look he’d never seen on the face of any of his lovers.

Yuuri left the room to make tea.

 

Yuuri was beautiful. He was a painting. A work of art.

Victor stared down at the photo in wonder. Here was seduction distilled to its purest form. There were people who tried to be seductive, but merely ended up being very vulgar. Yuuri was playful enough to get it just right.

_Eros._

He felt his cheeks burn.

Then he raised his eyes to make some excuse for staring at the photo for so long, to beg to be allowed to keep this picture and saw that Yuuri had left the room.

The picture drew his eyes to it again. He imagined hanging it up in his room next to the poster from The Blue Dancer.

He was brought out of this fantasy by the sound of boiling water.

He swallowed, rose to his feet, swaying like a drunk and went to the kitchen.

“M-may I…” he began and stopped, unable to continue.

Yuuri shrugged, his eyes on the teapot. “Keep it.”

“I-I’d love to get it signed…”

“Wait here.” Yuuri left the kitchen.

He returned with a pen in his hand and lipstick on his lips. He signed the page in the magazine and left an imprint of deep red lips next to his signature.

Victor waited for Yuuri to turn away to get the teacups before bringing the imprint up to his own lips.

 

Later they walked Makkachin together. Victor bought them an ice cream each as they walked along the river. They talked about favourite ice cream flavours, the things they liked about the summer and how great Makkachin was. The dog bounded around them and then ran ahead, inviting them to chase him.

They watched the sun set behind the mountains, holding hands and saying nothing, as if bewitched by the spectacle.

Victor left Yuuri with a stack of magazines in his hands and the promise to come see him perform the following evening.

 

There were men on the stage in suits and… Or were they women? It was hard to tell. In the middle of them all Yuuri stood in a shiny dress that opened up wide enough at the front to show the lace of the lingerie he wore under it. It went a few inches below Yuuri’s waist before it became just a curtain of tassels. There was a black felt hat on his head. His hair was gelled and styled to curve near his ear.

He closed his eyes and sang, his head half-turned to the audience, “ _Blah, blah, blah, cha, cha, cha. This is called the blah, blah, cha, cha, cha. Haven’t words to fit this tune._ ” He started out slow.

The hands of the dancers curved around him, sliding down his chest. Yuuri’s own hands slid down his thighs as he bent his knees and moved down.

“ _So we’ll just leave it this way and we’ll say it’s the blah, blah, cha, cha, cha_.”

The music paused. The audience drew a breath.

Yuuri’s eyes snapped open and he pushed all the arms away, standing up straight again.

“ _Blah, blah, blah, cha, cha, cha_ ,” he sang faster, catching one of the dancers by the arm and spinning around her, “ _This is called the_ _blah, blah, cha, cha, cha._ ”

He switched partners, going from one dancer to the next as the others swayed on the spot behind him, singing along and making sure to step forward when it was their turn.

When Yuuri got to the last dancer, he stepped away and went to the front. He spread out his arms, fell backwards and several dancers caught him. They turned him round and round, making his head draw circles in the air as his legs stayed in one spot. Then they lifted him into a standing position again. He stepped towards the audience with a sly smile on his face. His hands rose, as if to take his clothes off and then seemed to change his mind and settled for spinning around and demonstrating his open back instead.

“Take them off!” someone shouted.

“Yeah! Take them off!”

Always give them what they want – was an old rule at The Blue Dancer, but only after you’ve teased them a little about it.

He turned and gave them a questioning look over his shoulder.

The audience shouted profanities all to the effect that they wanted Yuuri to undress. And that was the trouble, of course: he could dance incredibly well, but if he didn’t get naked (or almost naked), they weren’t satisfied.

_Maybe it’s time to move on to regular dancing_ , he thought. _But for now I suppose I’ll just give them what they want._

He circled the dancers and then spun around quickly, letting his skirt rise and show off what he had on under the dress (although he suspected that all they really saw were his bare buttocks).

He stopped with his back to the audience and let his dress slip off one shoulder. He winked. He’d learned early on in his job how to make a dress slip off one shoulder without pulling it off with his hand.

They screamed and Yuuri pulled the dress back up again. He rolled his shoulders and kept dancing.

“ _If I could write some words, don’t you know, still the people will say cha, cha, cha let’s go_.”

He stopped, raised a hand to the zipper on his back. The room went silent as everyone watched his fingers. Some people craned in their seats for a better look. The zipper split the dress, showing the lace top Yuuri was wearing. His back still to the audience, he pulled it down.

It was a very tight dress at the bottom and Yuuri had to wriggle out of it and then he had to reach down a bit and… There!

Whistles rang out. He straightened up slowly and placed his gloved hands on his waist. Slowly his hands slid down over bare skin, tracing out the contours of his buttocks.

There were more whistles at this.

He swung around in time to the music to face the audience.

The lace lingerie he wore was just enough to cover those parts of him that needed covering and not an inch more.

Had there been any dance critics in the audience, they would’ve probably had a comment to make on Yuuri’s interpretation of the cha-cha. Maybe they would’ve said that he raised his legs more times than the dance needed him to, or that he spun around more than he should have, or that he danced for too long with his back to the audience.

But there were no dance critics in the audience.

Or so Yuuri thought.

 

“What did you think?” Yuuri asked, reclining on the bed after the performance, as Victor took his chair.

“I didn’t realize you could dance the cha-cha!” Victor exclaimed.

_And I didn’t realize you could recognize the cha-cha._ Yuuri had trained in a dancing school and knew many types of dances and then he went to a burlesque school, which was where the owner of The Blue Dancer had found him.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one who went to a dancing school. Yuuri studied Victor. Yes, it was just possible to believe that the man before him was a dancer. Maybe even a professional one. He certainly had the figure of one.

A playful thought popped into his head and he rose to his feet before he had a chance to really think about it, before he had a chance to remember that he was still only in his dressing gown.

“Can you dance the cha-cha?” he asked. He reached out for Victor’s hands.

“Of course!” Victor caught his outstretched hands and got up from his chair. He spun Yuuri around and pulled him close. “There isn’t enough room to dance it here, though.”

_So you_ are _a dancer!_ Yuuri thought.

He circled Victor and pulled him on, dancing in that small confined space. At some point the dressing gown was starting to get in his way and he threw it off.

Victor took his hands and danced on, as if he hadn’t noticed that Yuuri was in nothing more than undergarments. He wasn’t even wearing his shoes and went around in bare feet.

Afterwards Yuuri wondered how they danced if there was no music to accompany them. The next day when he returned to his room to prepare for another performance he took in how small it was and marvelled how they didn’t walk into walls and hurt each other.

But that didn’t really matter.

When they walked home it felt like they danced the whole way.

“One more time,” Yuuri said, turning around at his door and taking Victor’s hands again.

Victor chuckled and they danced down the hall.

He really was very good, Yuuri thought and said so aloud. “I’ve never met anyone who can dance like you and I used to train in a dance school,” he whispered as they returned to his door.

“You went to a dance school?” Victor repeated with a laugh. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in this chapter is [Bla Bla Bla Bla Cha Cha Cha by Petty Booka](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrj3-5DJvNg).


	6. Wet

The weather held out and so the next time they met they walked Makkachin again. It was a day made for walking. The sun shone high in the sky as a light breeze blew from the river. They walked along the river under an alley of trees as cyclists went by, along with other pedestrians. Makkachin ran ahead and then came back, jumping on Yuuri for attention.

“You’re such a good dog,” Yuuri said, petting him. “Aren’t you?”

Makkachin licked his face and he laughed in response.

Victor watched them with a smile. It felt so good to be carefree like this, to have absolutely nothing to worry about. He’d almost forgotten the feeling.

Yuuri looked up from his crouching position and grinned, still petting Makkachin with one hand. He was in a loose tank top and a pair of shorts.

Victor’s heart flipped over at the sight of that smile as his own lips spread out into one in response.

It was so warm and so comfortable. Yuuri gave him a sense of freedom he’d never felt before. He had a pang of guilt for not being completely honest with his friend, but – at the end of the day – it was only a little thing. It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter.

Yuuri stood up. “Is something wrong?”

“No, everything is fine.” And it _was_ fine, he reminded himself.

Yuuri took his hand. “Do you –”

Makkachin bolted away and they turned just in time to see him run into the water.

“Makkachin!” Yuuri screamed in alarm and ran into the water after him.

“Yuuri, wait! He can…” But Yuuri was already in the water, going after the dog. “…swim,” Victor finished quietly.

He watched Yuuri throw his arms around Makkachin and then turn around to laugh. Victor joined in, unable to help himself.

When Yuuri came out, he was dripping wet.

“You need to go home and change into something dry,” Victor said, “or you’ll catch a cold.”

“I need a shower,” Yuuri said, “and Makkachin needs a wash.”

They headed back, making jokes about swimming and Makkachin.

Suddenly Yuuri went quiet and stiffened. There was something painful in his eyes and Victor, who’d kept his eyes on the boy the whole journey, turned to see what had caused such a reaction.

They’d reached Yuuri’s apartment building. The bench just outside it, which Victor had never noticed before, was occupied by a group of old ladies. All of them were giving Yuuri dirty looks.

Victor opened his mouth to say something, but Yuuri caught his hand and squeezed it.

A slow and painful elevator trip later they stepped out onto Yuuri’s floor. By this point he looked crushed.

He headed for his room as soon as they walked in through the door without even bothering to say a single word.

Victor hugged Makkachin. The heaviness of the atmosphere made Victor cling to what had been his only source of support for many years, even if that source was currently a wet dog.

 

He’d forgotten himself. He’d let himself go. Everything was so simple and easy with Victor. There were no expectations. He didn’t need to play Eros all the time. He was happy, forgetting what had made him so miserable in the past.

But the past refused to stay buried and returned to poison his time with Victor, snatching away each perfect minute. He saw it in the looks people gave him. He’d heard the words they’d called him and he knew that everyone he’d dated thought of him the same way by the time the inevitable breakup came.

Yuuri stood in the shower and closed his eyes.

 _It’s in the past,_ he told himself. _It’s gone now. Who cares what the neighbours think?_

He sighed.

Would a day come when Victor would call him the word they all used?

No, he told himself. No, it wasn’t possible.

And then he smiled. Victor probably didn’t even know that word.

By the time he came out of the shower he was humming under his breath. Victor had never looked at him the way they had. Even when Yuuri was all wet, his clothes sticking to his body and water dripping off him. He’d never had that hungry look in his eyes that they all did. He only worried about Yuuri’s well-being.

Yuuri found Victor in his living room with Makkachin and gave them both a big smile. “It’s Makkachin’s turn now.”

 

Victor was the first in his seat at the club that evening. He’d worried for nothing. When Yuuri beamed at him after his shower he knew everything would be okay.

Everything was still fine.

The curtains on the stage parted to reveal a giant cocktail glass. It was as tall as a person and half-filled with water (or what looked like water) and something floated on its surface like a giant inflatable olive.

The audience cheered excitedly, greeting the glass like an old friend. It wasn’t a new routine, then.

Eros came out in a long gold dress. No, it wasn’t a gold dress. It was a dress made entirely of glittering stones that might have been gold in colour or might have just been made of glass.

The band struck up a tune as Eros stepped forward. He didn’t sing this time. Instead, he stepped down from the stage and walked among the people in the audience, exchanging a radiant smile with each person he passed. When he walked around Victor’s chair, he brushed his hand over its back, very briefly touching his shoulder.

He stopped in front of him, caught the finger of one glove with his teeth and pulled it off. The second one followed soon after. Victor watched the gloves drop on the table in front of him.

Victor swallowed as Eros stepped back up onto the stage. He stopped at the last step, turned around and winked over his shoulder, one leg raised playfully in the air behind him. He reached for his shoe, as if about to take it off, changed his mind, shrugged and kept going. He circled the glass slowly, trailing a hand over its rim.

He stepped away from it, raised his leg again and this time he didn’t hesitate.

One gold shoe tumbled onto the stage to be joined by its partner not long after. They were tossed aside as if he’d gotten bored of them. And each time a delicate finger would trace out the heel of his foot and go part of the way up his leg.

Around and up the fingers went until they caught a zipper just below the waist. The zipper drew out a circle and the skirt portion of the dress dropped away and Yuuri turned, letting the audience see the thong he was wearing from all sides. Like the dress, it seemed to be made mostly of stones.

The music went on as those same relentless fingers traced out two perfect thighs. They stopped at the gold garters that extended from the dress to hold up two skin-toned silk stockings. He paused and gave a knowing smile.

“I know you want me to,” the smile said.

Everyone held their breath as his fingers played with those clasps.

“He’ll pick someone,” a voice whispered behind Victor.

Suddenly Eros was in front of Victor, undoing the clasps, raising his leg behind him again and sliding the stocking off, and then the other. He raised his hand and dropped them on the table in front of Victor with that same knowing smile.

Victor snatched them up without thinking, as if he’d been thrown a lifeline to keep him from drowning and not a pair of intimates that still held the warmth of two of the most perfect thighs in existence.

He raised them reverentially to his lips and got an approving nod in return.

Eros turned, putting his back on display, as he unlaced the bodice. This was also deposited on Victor’s table, but Victor was too busy blushing at all of the skin Eros had revealed two steps away from him.

Eros swayed to the music with his back to the audience, bending his knees and going down slowly. He straightened up and turned and the audience rewarded him with whistles.

Was this really the same person who walked Makkachin with him that afternoon? Was that sweet and innocent person really the same as the god an arm’s length away from Victor?

Someone handed Eros two giant feather fans, which he spun slowly around him, as if to hide how he will undress further, but still the audience saw him unclasp the remaining part of the dress at the back and then turn around and free two perfect shoulders one at a time. The audience was getting really excited now.

Eros turned, his chest covered by the feather fan and for the next few minutes all Victor could see were bare shoulders and feathers as well as naked legs.

Was it really the same person who’d looked so crushed and pained as the one currently performing with an air of triumph and oozing sex appeal from every pore?

The feather fans were put away and two perfect hands rose up as Eros demonstrated a perfect chest that was bare apart from a pair of gold pasties that ended in tassels.

He went up to the stage and returned to the glass that Victor had forgotten about completely (although, at that point he couldn’t have remembered his own name if someone had asked him what it was).

Eros circled the glass and climbed in.

_Oh God! He’s almost completely naked and now he’s…!_

Eros reclined in the water, giving a happy sigh as the music played softer and slower than before. He rolled over and gave the audience a mischievous grin as he peered over the rim of the glass. He rolled over again and suddenly there was the fake olive under him.

Breathing was getting really hard. Victor raised a hand to loosen his collar and blushed. He watched Eros do odd things with the olive and wondered why he himself suddenly felt completely naked.

Eros sat up in the water, pouring it over his chest and smiling. Then he burst out into a happy laugh and splashed it at the audience. Victor felt a few fall on his face and again he forgot how to breathe.

The audience laughed in response.

Eros blew a kiss and waved.

The curtain dropped and the music stopped. The performance was over.

And Victor made two discoveries. One: he could finally breathe freely and really needed a lot of air. Two: Eros’s entire outfit lay on his table. Including the feather fans. Victor remembered the sight of two hands sliding sensually over a chest still partially covered by that dress and the long sigh that followed and blushed.

He stared at the clothes in mute confusion for several seconds, trying to catch his breath as if he’d just run a marathon.

 _Yuuri needs them back,_ he thought, much to his own surprise. He picked them up one at a time, draped them over his arm, like he would a shirt or a pair of pants and went to return them to Yuuri.

As always, he knocked and waited for permission before coming in.

Yuuri was pulling a pair of shorts on when Victor entered. Victor turned away immediately. “I brought your clothes.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri walked around to take them and Victor stared down at perfect chest, covered by absolutely nothing this time.

He continued to smile politely. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

“Why?”

“So you can get dressed.”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri said, “you can wait here. I don’t mind.”

Victor felt as if someone had glued him to his spot.

Yuuri returned to the other side of the room and was probably changing, but Victor wasn’t going to turn and check. He waited patiently until the performer finished and came up to him to take his hand.

“Thank you for the roses,” Yuuri said.

This time Victor had left them in Yuuri’s room before the performance.

He was still wearing lipstick and Victor thought of the autograph with the imprint and his secret kiss.

“It was nothing,” he said, trying to sound like it.

“Does the florist ever say anything?”

“What? Oh, just ‘thank you’, I think.” Why was he asking about the florist?

Yuuri laughed and Victor remembered the figure splashing happily in the water. “I mean,” Yuuri clarified, “don’t they say anything about you buying a bouquet every day?”

“Not really.” Victor smiled as understanding dawned. “He’s not very talkative.”

Yuuri laughed again and took Victor’s arm. “Let’s go home.”

 

Yuuri’s lingerie ads were plastered all over the wall. The Eros poster, along with the second one Victor finally got from the owner of The Blue Dancer was on a different wall and the two page spread from Playboy was just under it.

Victor blushed under the collective stares of all the Eroses.

He’d never collected posters before. He knew that other people went through obsessions and different phases and put up posters of bands, or of their favourite celebrities, or at the very least of nice landscapes, or (as was in his friend’s case) erotic pictures of naked men.

Now he had erotic pictures of Yuuri. He blushed deeper and wondered if putting them up had been a good idea.

Yuuri was an enigma. How could anyone be so seductive and so innocent? It just made no sense. Of course a performance required some pretending and good actors could play any role, but Yuuri flipped between the two opposites as easily as he _stripped in front of an adoring audience._

Victor put his hands over his face.

“That’s quite a collection you’ve got there.”

Victor raised his head at the sound of that voice and looked into his friend’s face. “Oh hello, Chris.”

“Something wrong?” Chris asked with a smile.

“No. It’s fine. Really.”

Chris studied the ads and let out a whistle. “He’s a good-looking one.” The Playboy photo made him elbow Victor jokingly. “This one is definitely my favourite. How did you get so many?”

“He gave them to me.”

“So this is the mysterious man who made Victor Nikiforov drop everything and move in with me for the immediate future?”

“Yes.” Victor admitted, knowing that lying would’ve been a waste of time.

Chris studied Victor’s face for several minutes. “I bet you haven’t slept with him yet.”

“Chris!” Victor jumped. “How could I do that? He has a boyfriend!”

“Are you sure? Sometimes people come up with excuses –”

“I’ve seen him,” Victor cut in. “And Yuuri wouldn’t lie!”

“Yuuri, hmm?” Chris turned back to the Playboy photo. “I think Eros suits him better.”

Victor sighed.

“So, what does he do, apart from wear lingerie and seduce Victor Nikiforov?”

“He performs at The Blue Dancer.” The moment the words left his lips Victor knew he’d made a mistake.

“Excellent! I’d like to see him perform.” Chris put an arm around Victor. “Will you introduce me?”

Victor sighed. “Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The routine Yuuri performs is [one of Dita von Teese's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QpvIgfjtgvE).


	7. My Best Friend

They stood outside the club, waiting to be let in, as Chris took in the crowd. It was much bigger than Chris had expected. It consisted of all kinds of people, both men and women. All of them were well-dressed, as the dress code of The Blue Dancer required them to.

“This doesn’t look like your type of place at all, Victor.”

Victor said nothing. His mind was obviously elsewhere. Chris eyed him curiously, trying to guess what he could possibly be thinking about.

Victor held the bouquet of roses he’d bought that morning from a florist who seemed to know Victor really well. The florist had spent 10 minutes in front of them putting the bouquet together as per Victor’s instructions, but it hadn’t been enough: Victor wrapped it nice paper once he got home and spent forever perfecting every rose. Chris had also witnessed his friend spend 30 minutes in front of a mirror and then give a long sad sigh.

It was very serious, then.

And how did this Yuuri feel about Victor?

The doors opened and they entered. Chris followed Victor, trying to keep an eye on his friend while also taking in his surroundings. It looked exactly how he’d expected it to, down to the tables and chairs.

Victor took a spot near the front that everyone else ignored and Chris joined him.

A red-haired young woman went on stage first and Victor ignored her in favour of studying his bouquet and making more adjustments to it.

Chris, on the other hand, found her hard to ignore, especially when she got almost completely naked and twirled the pearls around her neck. She was giving a great performance and the audience loved her. She ended by throwing her bra out to her adoring fans, blowing a kiss and strutting away.

There was a brief pause while they prepared the stage for the next number.

Chris saw Victor start to show signs of growing impatience. A waiter dropped by and the friends ordered a glass of champagne each. The glass came with a little chocolate and Chris noticed how the waiter smiled at Victor.

_Looks like he put in a good word for you,_ Chris thought, _so your feelings might be mutual._ And then he thought, _But you’re Victor Nikiforov! Of course your feelings are mutual!_

The lights turned off and a hush fell over the audience.

And then the stage lights came on to reveal that now the stage wasn’t empty: a dozen or so chairs stood all around, each with a performer draped over it. Some sat with their legs apart, leaning against the backs of their chairs. Some sat sideways. Some sat with their legs up in the air. Only the chair in the middle was empty.

Someone ran out and froze beside it, one leg on the chair and one shoulder raised playfully.

It was Eros.

He was in something very short, very shiny and very, very see-through, consisting of nothing more than a mesh in some parts. In deference to decency, he was in short shorts that _weren’t_ see-through and the sparkles covered his chest in two specific areas. There was a dainty black hat on his head and makeup on his face. Two stockings rose halfway up his thighs, held up by a pair of garters.

Chris smiled and threw a sideways look at Victor. His friend’s eyes were glued to that figure. Chris shifted his chair so that he could keep both of them in view. This was going to be _very_ interesting.

The band began to play, Eros opened his mouth and sang. “ _You have to understand the way I am, mein herr._ ” Four fingers tapped playfully against the back of the chair. “ _A tiger is a tiger, not a lamb, mein herr_.” Now the knee gave a quick up and down twitch. “ _You'll never turn the vinegar to jam, mein herr_.”

_Oh God, he can sing too!_

He had a very pleasant voice, exactly the kind of voice you would want whispering or moaning your name, or so Chris thought, anyway. And then he wished he hadn’t and did his best to remember that this was Victor’s crush (if not boyfriend) singing on the stage.

“ _So I do what I do_ ,” he sat down with a smile. “ _When I’m through, then I’m through._ ” One foot rose up in the air and the heel turned around playfully, “ _and I’m through._ ” He raised a hand. “ _Tootle-oo._ ” He gave a little wave with his hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Chris saw Victor repeat that gesture.

The other dancers were probably dancing along, but Chris didn’t look at them. They weren’t the ones standing centre stage and oozing more sexual appeal than Chris had ever seen in his life. _Well_ , he considered this, _with maybe two exceptions_.

“ _Bye bye mein lieber herr._

_Farewell mein lieber herr_

_It was a fine affair, but now it’s over.”_

Eros circled the chair, leaned one leg against it and then jumped onto it. He was as nimble as a cat, dancing on the chair and then around it suggestively. And he sang in a light playful tone that matched his movements.

“We all know who this ‘herr’ is,” his manner seemed to say, “he’s a bit of an idiot, between you and me, but you, you’re much better than him.”

“ _Don’t dab your eye, mein herr,_

_Or wonder why, mein herr._

_I always said that I was a rover._ ”

Eros leaned against the back of the chair, his legs out in front of him as he sang. He looked like someone who was a lot of fun and not just in the bedroom. Chris watched Victor out of the corner of his eye. _I think you’ll find yourself in very good hands with him._

But as the song went on Chris found himself worrying. It was a performance. Chris knew it was a performance. It had to be. And yet...

What if Yuuri _was_ a rover, as the song called it?

Chris had heard Victor’s (somewhat naïve) ideas about love. If Yuuri was the person he was playing on stage, then Victor was about to be very heartbroken. Maybe it was blessing that he thought that Yuuri had someone else.

Chris watched them both closely.

Victor sat absolutely still and barely moved a muscle. His eyes were wide open and a blush spread over his cheeks.

Still Eros danced on.

“ _The continent of Europe is so wide, mein herr,_ ” he went on, sitting on the chair, his chin in his hand with the air of someone imparting a great secret. “ _Not only up and down, but side to side, mein herr._ ” He raised one leg onto the back of his chair. “ _I couldn’t ever cross it if I tried, mein herr._ ” He gave the audience a warm smile. “ _But I do what I can_ ,” a wink, “ _inch by inch_ ,” a hand wiggle, “ _Step by step..._ ” He dropped onto his back and did a little run with his legs. “ _Mile by mile..._ ” He jumped back onto his legs. “ _Man by man._ ” He climbed onto the back of the chair and slid his hands down his chest as he sang the last line with his eyes closed.

“ _Bye-Bye, Mein Lieber Herr._

_Farewell, mein Lieber Herr._

_It was a fine affair,_

_But now it's over._ ”

The stage was too small to contain all of him. Not content with his little spot, he circled the other dancers, exchanging smiles with them. He crawled to the front of the stage with a pleased smile on his face, but didn’t stay there long before rushing back.

_If he comes down here, I wonder if he’ll go near Victor._

But Yuuri remained on the stage, trapped under the lights

He was completely at ease in his clothes. _And he’d probably be completely at ease in just his skin_ , Chris’s mind supplied. Eros danced around with the rest of the dancers, flirting with them and flirting with the audience. He had no qualms about putting his body on display to be admired by everyone and Chris enjoyed every viewing angle he got.

The remainder of the song was mostly in German. Eros sang and the dancers echoed his words, shouting in German as they winked at the audience.

Chris threw another look at Victor. As far as he knew, Victor didn’t speak a word of German, but he had a strong suspicion that Yuuri could. He was, after all, performing in a city where it was the primary language.

_He really is something_ , Chris thought. _It’s no wonder Victor has completely lost his mind because of him! Anyone else in his place would do the same._

If Chris hadn’t already had a boyfriend he was in love with and if he hadn’t had a rule about his friends’ crushes, he would’ve invited Yuuri for a few drinks and then a pleasant evening together.

But this was the first time he’d seen Victor show any romantic interest in anyone and Chris considered it his duty as a friend to encourage him. And, if everything worked out well, then maybe even see to it that they ended up happily together.

He imagined what people would say when they found out that Victor Nikiforov was dating a burlesque performer. And then he wondered what Victor would say when he heard them.

He’d seen them out walking once. It wasn’t a big town and running into people you knew was very easy.

 

_He stood on the other side of the river watching Victor walk hand in hand with a dark-haired young man. Unfortunately he was too far away to properly see his features. At this distance all he could tell was that he was a whole head shorter than Victor._

_Victor stopped as Makkachin ran in circles around them._

_Chris watched them talk, doing nothing more than hold hands and smiled._

He wondered now how Victor could go on a date with someone like Yuuri and do nothing more than hold hands. The boy drew you in, whether you wanted to be drawn in or not. Normally, Victor wasn’t afraid of invading someone’s personal space. Was it really because he thought Yuuri was taken? Or was he finding it hard to approach Yuuri?

Chris suppressed a chuckle.

The song ended with a mad run around, a long note and the dancers all shouting something over and over again.

Chris was impressed. Unlike Victor, he’d gone to different shows, from plain striptease to burlesque performances and Yuuri really was very good.

The audience loved him. They shouted his name and all sorts of suggestions (as well as one or two offers).

Eros smiled, bowed and then ran off with a happy wave.

“He didn’t strip this time,” someone said behind Chris, making him smile.

_So he usually strips, huh?_

“You’ve got good taste,” Chris whispered into Victor’s ear once it became clear that the performance was well and truly over and there was definitely no chance of an encore. “I’ll give you that.”

“Chris!” Victor exclaimed.

“Come on, you promised to introduce me.” Chris got up.

He’d rarely seen anyone go weak at the knees and he’d never seen it happen to Victor before, but he was seeing it now and it made him laugh.

_You really need to talk this out,_ Chris thought. _If it had been me, I would’ve asked if he was okay with having sex with me just the once. Although, I don’t know if it will help you, or just make it worse._

He helped Victor stand and then helped him walk.

He remembered waking up at 1 in the morning because Victor was shaking him with the words, “I found my inspiration!”

Anyone else would’ve shouted, “I fell in love!” but not Victor.

Now there was a big fight that was about to get even bigger. And all over a boy. Granted, it wasn’t just _any_ boy. Chris understood Victor all too well now.

At last they arrived at the room with Eros’s name on it and stopped.

Victor hesitated before raising his fist to the door. “I brought a friend who wants to meet you, Yuuri,” he said right after knocking against it.

“Come in,” Yuuri called and Chris smiled at the way Victor blushed before entering.

The boy lay on his side on the bed with a smile on his face, wearing nothing more than a dressing gown, if Chris was any judge.

“Yuuri,” Victor took his hand and gave it a gentle handshake. “This is my best friend, Chris. He… um, wanted to meet you.”

Chris watched for Yuuri’s reaction while Yuuri seemed to be measuring him up.

_He wants to know who I am to Victor,_ Chris realized. _Oh, Victor, you are too naïve for this boy._

He stepped up to Yuuri, took his hand and kissed it. “You were incredible,” he said, slipping into French.

“ _Merci_ ,” Yuuri thanked him.

Chris would’ve paid a lot to see how Victor reacted to that simple word, but unfortunately he was facing the other way at that moment. It was no secret that Victor’s favourite language was French, in which he himself was quite proficient.

“Very charming,” Chris went on in French. “I’m afraid you’ve won me over entirely.”

The expression on Yuuri’s face changed.

_Ah, complimented a lot, too. Of course you were!_

“I would consider it an honour to get a chance to get to know you better,” he went on and heard Victor make an annoyed sound.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said, “but I’m currently seeing someone.”

“Ah! I knew there was no hope for me!”

“Chris! Please, you have to forgive him, Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, trying to push him away. “He’s just teasing. He has a boyfriend of his own and he _never cheats on him_.” His tone was cold, suggesting that if Chris decided that this was the time to break that rule, there would be Consequences.

Yuuri laughed. “Nice to meet you, Chris!”

Chris switched to English. “Caught out, I’m afraid.”

They laughed together.

Chris bent over Yuuri’s ear confidentially. “Incidentally, I think I’ve met your boyfriend,” he said, speaking in German and smiling once he saw that Yuuri understood what he was saying. “Is he tall, blond and very naïve?”

Yuuri laughed louder this time and shook Chris’s hand. “I like your friend, Victor. If you want to come by again, Chris, I will be very glad to see you!”

Chris saw Victor’s horrified expression. “Oh no, I may be a loyal boyfriend, but even my loyalty might be tested if I come here more than once.”

Yuuri gave him a warm smile.

Up close like this Chris found himself charmed even more. He thought about this as Victor pulled him out of the room to let Yuuri change.

Had Yuuri been a monarch all the rulers would’ve lain their kingdoms down at his feet in exchange for a single kiss. Wars would break out over a discarded stocking.

_Oh God, I’m starting to think like a poet,_ Chris shook his head.

He looked at Victor. “What do I tell Yakov?”

“Hmm? What?”

“You know he’ll call me again tomorrow to see if you can be persuaded to go back. What do I tell him?” And the words that hung in the air after that question were “if he finds out you dropped everything because of a boy, he’ll throw a fit. He’ll go completely postal.”

Victor shrugged. “The truth.”

Yuuri stepped out of the room and Victor took his hand reverentially.

_The truth? But do you know what it is? Do you realize how in love you are? And, lucky you, I can see he likes you too._

They walked Yuuri home together in complete silence. It was a warm and pleasant evening. Yuuri leant on Victor’s arm. Everything was perfect until they reached Yuuri’s apartment building.

Despite how late it was, there were three old ladies sitting on a bench outside.

_Shouldn’t you be asleep?_ Chris wondered, seeing the stares the ladies threw at Yuuri.

Yuuri ignored them completely and kept walking.

“Do you have no sense of shame?” one of them exclaimed.

Yuuri froze with his hand on the door’s handle.

“I’m talking to you, young man! I bet your parents didn’t bring you up to be this way!”

Chris watched Yuuri hunch his shoulders and looked at Victor.

One of the old ladies got up and walked towards them, rocking slightly on her feet. “What? One isn’t enough now?”

Yuuri turned around and opened his mouth, but Victor stepped in front of him. “Is something wrong?” he asked her coldly.

“And what about you? You think it’s a good idea to go visit people like _him_?” the lady saw the confusion on Victor’s face, realized he didn’t understand what she’d said and repeated herself in English.

Victor put an arm around Yuuri. “What do you mean? Yuuri is a wonderful performer.”

“Is that what they’re calling themselves now? _Performers_?”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Victor admitted. _Of course he doesn’t,_ Chris thought. “But it doesn’t sound like something nice. Yuuri is my friend and I don’t want to hear anything said against him.”

“Then I’ll say it plainly. Your _friend_ is a person of easy virtue.” She waited for Victor to react and when he didn’t, she spat out, “a _prostitute_ , young man!”

“You’re mistaken,” Victor argued. “Yuuri performs on stage. Prostitution has nothing to do with it. And if he _were_ a prostitute, you would still owe him the same respect you owe anyone else.” He turned away and opened the door for Yuuri.

He escorted Yuuri into the elevator, forgetting about Chris completely. Chris had no choice but to follow them. For the first time in his life Chris knew what being a third wheel felt like. Neither of them said anything, but the way they looked at each other spoke volumes.

Victor actually walked Yuuri all of the way to the door to his apartment only to stop right in front of it where they said goodbye to each other. They reached out at the same time, enveloping each other in an embrace.

“Thank you,” Yuuri whispered.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Victor replied, gathering Yuuri close to him. “I will come see you at the club tomorrow. I’m afraid I’ll be busy all day.” He pulled away. “Is that alright? Or do you want me to come in the afternoon?”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri said. He hesitated and then he took Victor’s hand and kissed it. “I will look forward to it.”

He’d said the words in an innocent tone of voice, but Victor still blushed.

Victor then waited for Yuuri to close the door of his apartment behind him before heading back for the elevators.

 

“Isn’t he perfect?” Victor whispered once they were outside, remembering about Chris’s presence at last. “He’s incredible! By the way, what was that you said to him in German?”

Chris clapped him on the back. “You’re an idiot, Victor.”

“What? Why?”

“Because he isn’t seeing anyone. Well,” Chris smiled to himself, “not seeing anyone _else_.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Chris opened his mouth and debated what was the best way to answer that question. “He’s all yours, Victor,” he said at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, through a complete coincidence, someone on Tumblr [ drew art of Yuuri doing that Dita von Teese routine I described in the previous chapter](http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com/post/165569183448/sleepyfortress-fine-piece-of-ass-requested).  
> In this chapter, Yuuri performs [Liza Minnelli's routine with a chair from the movie Cabaret](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lxmz3RcNNBE).


	8. He’s All Yours

_“He’s all yours.”_ The words echoed in Victor’s mind over and over again, making him blush and cover his face in embarrassment.

Yuuri had no boyfriend. Whoever he was seeing before had gone. How could they have gone? Victor tried to imagine what could have happened and couldn’t.

In any case, it wasn’t important. What was, however, was that Yuuri was available.

Yuuri. Eros. The sexiest man alive.

 

There were bars on the stage, as if someone had built a prison there overnight, and a closed door in the middle. Slow, seductive music started to play. The stage lights turned off and then back on again to reveal the dancers standing behind the bars, sticking their arms out. They danced to the music, in perfect sync with each other.

Each of them was in plain black lingerie that was tight and revealing enough to leave nothing to the imagination. Slowly hands trailed down the bars as all the dancers licked their lips seductively.

The audience reacted with its usual enthusiasm. Victor, on the other hand, wasn’t moved at all.

So they swayed their hips suggestively and then ran their hands down their bodies, so what? So they turned as one to show off completely bare backsides. That mattered very little.

They had none of Eros’s charm and appeal.

Victor waited patiently for Yuuri to appear among them.

Gradually the music changed and the door in middle swung around to reveal Eros standing against it.

He was in a black corset, a thong and a pair of black high-heeled boots. There was a very light, very see-through black negligee thrown over his shoulders. His head was resting against the door, his eyes closed, as if he’d fallen asleep. One leg was raised, the heel pressed against the door.

The music stopped and he gave a long sigh that sent shivers down Victor’s spine.

And then he pulled his head away from the door and sang as the music started up again. “ _Okay, okay, he’s got my number and you can’t, you can’t warn me baby here I am. Either you make the time or just forget me._ ”

He stepped away from the door and crossed the stage slowly. Victor couldn’t say why he was suddenly so terrified. Maybe it was the look in Eros’s eyes. Maybe it was something else.

“ _So give it to me right, or don’t give it to me at all_.”

He descended from the stage and walked up to Victor’s table.

“ _I don’t think you understand how real it is for me to find a man who thinks he can_.”

He circled Victor’s chair, one hand on the back as he kept singing and then, despite the heels, despite the height of the table, he leapt onto it.

Victor snatched his bouquet and glass form the table as Eros danced on the table. He only dared to raise his eyes once before blushing deeply and staring down at Eros’s feet.

But Eros wasn’t going to let him off so easily: he lowered himself slowly and dropped onto his back as he continued to sing.

“ _This is the real life baby. This is the life that makes me say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah_.”

His face was mere inches away. His hands were sliding down a body that was also – oh god! – mere inches away. And then he was gasping with so much enthusiasm Victor was sure he’d faint.

_Don’t do this to me, please._

Here was Eros – no, Yuuri – lying on his table. Yuuri – no, Eros – who was actually available and hadn’t pushed Victor away no matter how naïve he’d behaved. Here he was, turning onto his stomach and getting up on his elbows to keep singing.

“ _You know what I like, won’t you accept it?_ ” He reached out with his hand and trailed a finger down Victor’s nose.

Victor gulped.

He forgot where he was. He forgot that others were watching.

“Yuuri…” he whispered.

Eros turned over onto his back again, singing that song that refused to end, sliding against the table and running his hands down his chest. He raised one foot into the air and Victor was prepared to swear it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

And then he thought of Yuuri’s eyes reflecting the night sky.

Eros slipped off the table and returned to the stage to open the bars and release the other dancers. They finished the dance and song together.

“ _Give it to me right, or don’t give it to me at all_.”

Eros stopped, looking back over his shoulder at the audience. The music got louder as the negligee slipped off his shoulders down onto the stage. He put his hands on his hips and smiled at the audience, gave a little wave and left.

Victor remained glued to his spot for several minutes, unable to move.

_“So give it to me right, or don’t give it to me at all.”_

He had no idea how to satisfy Yuuri, or anyone else. He had no idea what people got up to in the bedroom. Chris had volunteered to show him some videos once, but, for some reason, they never got around to it.

What was the use? Even if he watched what other people did he had no experience whatsoever! Yuuri would merely laugh at him.

He was probably good at telling what his partner wanted. Victor had no idea where to even start.

It was so embarrassing!

But Yuuri had accepted him as a friend, so that was alright. They could just continue as they are. No one said he had to sleep with Yuuri.

He blushed and cleared his throat.

Yes, well, it was a good idea to just, ahem, go on as they were.

He got up and walked to Yuuri’s room.

A half-naked dancer passed him in the hallway. “Are you lost, darling? I can help you find your way to my bedroom, if you like.”

“I… er…” Victor stuttered and swallowed. “Y-Yuuri…” he said, his eyes staring at the corridor ahead as his brain tried to work out how to explain that he was going to see the performer.

Her face fell. “Yes, of course. He always gets the handsome ones.”

She moved out of his way and he continued down the hallway, as if he hadn’t been stopped.

 

The moment Yuuri returned to his room he gave a long tired sigh. It was so good to be finally done. He’d spent half the day rehearsing this number. He was already exhausted by the time he went out on stage and was afraid he wouldn’t be able to finish his routine, but somehow he’d pulled through.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Yuuri said.

The door opened and Victor stuck his head in. “Should I wait outside?”

“Come on in,” Yuuri said and unfastened his corset with a single movement. He was glad he wasn’t stuck wearing a corset that needed lacing up this time.

Victor lingered in the doorway until Yuuri turned around and nodded at the second chair. He’d finally remembered to get a chair for him.

Victor dropped into the chair with his usual praise.

Yuuri leaned down and unzipped his boots. It felt good to pull them off. No matter how many times he wore them, they still managed to squeeze his feet painfully. He pulled on a pair of more comfortable heels instead.

He opened the closet, pulled out his dressing gown, wrapped it around himself and sat down on the bed.

“You should get some sleep,” Victor said, sliding his chair over to the bed.

Yuuri reclined with his eyes closed. “Tell me how your day went.”

“I met up with Chris this morning. He needed my help with…”

 

Yuuri awoke. There was someone lying on the bed next to him. In his state between sleeping and waking he dismissed this as normal. Without opening his eyes, he turned over, wrapped his arms around them and pulled them close. It was warm and, oh, so comfortable.

 

Someone was clinging on to him. Someone’s leg was draped over his and he could feel the heel of their shoe resting gently against his skin.

Slowly his mind registered the feel of the hands on his back and the warm breath on his neck.

He was fully dressed and the person next to him was as well.

Victor’s eyes opened slowly and he took in what he could see of his unfamiliar surroundings, trying to understand where he was.

And then, in a flash, it all came back to him: he’d fallen asleep in Yuuri’s room! Not his bedroom in his apartment, but his room at the Club and he hadn’t even locked the door so anyone could come in at any time!

But it was so warm in Yuuri’s embrace. So warm and so comfortable. He blushed at their unexpected intimacy.

How did he end up on the bed? How did he end up with Yuuri’s legs curved around his and their hips pressed together?

Yuuri made a soft noise, moved his head and kissed Victor’s neck.

He couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips and Yuuri took it as a signal to keep going. So on he went.

“Yuuri…” Victor moaned, wishing he could still speak normally.

“Why are you still dressed?” Yuuri asked sleepily. “Why am I –”

Suddenly Yuuri was on the other side of the bed. “Victor, I’m so sorry! I… uh… It’s… I guess I’m just used to…” He was blushing and Victor couldn’t help thinking how well it suited him.

He sat up, blushing too. “It’s fine… really.” He’d slept with Eros! Actually slept right next to him! He grabbed his head to stop it spinning.

“I’m so sorry,” Yuuri repeated. “And we’re still at the Club. Let’s… Let’s go home.”

He was so flustered. His hair was a mess. His face still had traces of sleep in it. He was so beautiful it almost hurt.

Victor got up. “I’ll take you home. It’s my fault for falling asleep next to you. I should’ve insisted –” He stopped talking and turned away.

Yuuri was pulling his dressing gown off.

“I… uh… It’s inappropriate for me to... I’ll… um… wait outside while you get dressed.” He stepped out of the room, closing the door and leaning against it.

 

They walked back in silence. Yuuri clung on to Victor’s hand so hard it hurt and Victor, suddenly remembering the rude old ladies, said nothing. If the old ladies had been outside that early in the morning, he would have probably said all kinds of nasty things. But luckily they weren’t.

He held the door open for Yuuri and watched him hesitate before entering.

“You don’t need to…” Yuuri began.

“I want to!” Victor insisted.

They continued onwards to Yuuri’s apartment, which Victor entered without really thinking about it. Maybe he was too tired to consider going back to his own apartment. Maybe he was too tired to leave Yuuri.

“I’m going to take a bath,” Yuuri said with a yawn.

“C-can I stop by for a bit? I can cook some breakfast, if you like,” Victor offered.

Yuuri nodded with a smile. “Sure, why not?”

 

Breakfast was ready and on the table and Victor left to call Yuuri. The boy wasn’t in his room and so Victor kept walking, determined to find him and tell him that he’d finished cooking.

It must have been fatigue that made him enter the bathroom without thinking.

He opened the door and was greeted by a sight that was beyond the power of mere words to describe. Yuuri lay in a bathtub, a pair of beautiful shoulders rising up above the water. Two feet stuck out of the water, resting against the side of the bathtub. He smiled at Victor the moment the door opened.

Victor smiled back. “Do you want me to help you wash your hair?”

“Yes, please!” Yuuri nodded.

“One second.” Victor left the bathroom to return with a chair, which he placed beside the bathtub. He removed his jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and took off his tie before asking, “Where do you keep your shampoo?”

 

He really was very innocent. Yuuri knew Victor well enough by now to not expect him to jump into the bathtub, but the hair washing had caught him off guard. He reclined in the bathtub, enjoying a new sensation that he’d never experienced before.

He felt safe.

And, yes, if he was honest with himself, it also felt really good when Victor washed his hair. He closed his eyes and suppressed a sigh.

“You have really soft hair,” Victor told him after a while.

He didn’t try to slide his hands down over Yuuri’s face or neck, but turned on the tap and continued to wash Yuuri’s hair as nonchalantly as possible.

When he washed all of the shampoo out he left Yuuri to finish his bath and then join him for breakfast.

It was the most delicious breakfast Yuuri ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features [Give It To Me Right by Melanie Fiona](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dPBQmzKQRvU). And, of course, is part of my anniversary celebration for Yuri on Ice. Thank you again for being awesome, YOI!


	9. Eros and Yuuri Katsuki

It was dark and quiet at the Blue Dancer and then a deep and sensual sigh broke the silence, sending shudders through the audience.

The lights turned on, but they were dim stage lights. Intimate lights.

The band struck up a slow tune as Victor took in the figure standing with his back to the audience and one hand on the closed curtains.

He smiled over his shoulder.

It was Eros. He was in a short red sequined dress. There were ruby red heels on his feet that sparkled when they caught the light. He had elbow-length red gloves. There were little horns in his hair and a forked tail protruded from the back of his dress, which dropped so low that Victor was sure he could see all of his back.

“ _I’ll hold your hand while they drag the river_.

 _I’ll cuddle you in the undertow_.

 _I’ll keep my hand on your trigger finger._ ”

Eros raised a hand and slid it up over his cheek. He smiled wider, stepped back and the curtains parted to reveal the sexiest version of hell Victor had ever seen. There were half-naked dancers plastered jokingly over instruments of torture.

He walked among them as he sang. “ _Let’s wile away the hours. Let’s spend an evil night together_.”

He turned a crank and a dancer turned over onto her stomach and rose on her elbows to crawl forward. He kept going, turning things, dropping little ornamental blades, moving parts and each dancer he passed moved into a different position. They all had little red horns in their hair and a forked tail just like Eros’s.

“ _Who’s gonna make you a hero?_

 _Who’s gonna blow you away?_ ”

They got up, moved the instruments of torture back out of their way and danced with Eros. It was a slow dance. Hands slid down over bare skin. Clothes were pulled off and discarded as if they were simply getting in the way.

Eros stepped forward and pulled his gloves off with his teeth.

They brought a chair out for him, but, thankfully, it was just a regular chair.

“ _Let’s wile away the hours._

 _Let’s spend an evil night together_.”

He circled it as the song continued. Then he dropped onto it, legs spread wide apart and every member of the audience had the same thought: oh, what a shame that Eros sat with the back of the chair facing the audience!

Eros sang on, leaning against the back of the chair, almost hugging it. One hand slid over its back as Eros half-closed his eyes. He traced out a circle with his finger and gave a quiet sigh.

“I wish I was that chair…” someone in the audience whispered.

Eros got up, circled the chair, turned it around and sat down again. Now the back of the chair wasn’t in the way, but his arms were. He turned his head and raised an eyebrow at the audience. With agonizing slowness he slid his hands onto his thighs.

The audience erupted into a big loud happy noise made up of all kinds of medium-sized noises.

Eros joined his knees and parted them several times. Then he raised his legs in the air and, well, it didn’t matter what he did: all of the audience’s concentration was focused on one point.

He sang on, but it didn’t matter what the song was, because if you’d asked anyone in the audience what the words were, they would’ve been hard pressed to answer.

As for Victor, all of his thoughts were on the poster in his room.

Eros rose from the chair and lowered his dress slowly. He turned and again the mostly bare back was put on display, as if to remind the audience, that, yes, it was still very bare and still as beautiful and as perfect as before.

He swayed slowly to the music, his hands on his hips.

The dress slipped off one shoulder and slid down. Yuuri slipped it off the other shoulder. He wiggled out of it, making the audience laugh and then raised it with an exaggerated movement of one hand before dropping it on the stage.

Slowly he turned.

Even from Victor’s close seat by the stage it looked like there were red rubies covering Eros’s privates and nipples. They went up from his crotch and across to his hips. He turned around slowly and demonstrated how they trailed all the way to his tail.

Maybe someone was wondering how that tail stayed on, but Victor was having trouble breathing.

“ _No need for cake or flowers. Let’s spend an evil night together_ ,” Eros sang out sensually, sliding both hands down over his chest and Victor was sure that for the first time in his life he was going to faint.

 

By the time his head stopped spinning the performance was over. The lights were back on and people around him were chatting excitedly to each other. One of the waiters offered him a glass of champagne.

He got up and rushed to Yuuri’s room.

He knew they were doing a Halloween-themed number, but he wasn’t prepared to see this. He was especially not prepared for the way the words “ _Let’s spend an evil night together_ ” would affect him when breathed out by a mostly-naked Yuuri.

The memory of that early morning kiss still burned the skin on his neck, despite the fact that a whole week had gone by since they’d accidentally slept together.

He found Yuuri half asleep in his chair. The horns and tail lay discarded on the floor and his sleeping form was wrapped in his usual dressing gown.

The whole week long he’d only visited in the evenings, and every time Yuuri appeared more and more exhausted after a performance.

Was something wrong? Was he pushing himself too hard? Was he not sleeping well?

He reached out and touched Yuuri’s face gently with the back of his hand.

Yuuri’s eyelids fluttered open. “I’m so tired…” he whispered.

“Why don’t you sleep here?” Victor suggested, blushing as that memory rose up treacherously again.

“I… I can’t. The door doesn’t lock and it’s not really safe to sleep when no one’s around. I guess…” It was his turn to blush now. “I guess I let my guard down.”

“I can carry you home,” Victor offered.

He’d half carried Yuuri the night before when Yuuri leaned against his arm for support.

“No… I’m fine.”

“Do you want me to help you get dressed?” Victor asked, helping Yuuri rise to his feet.

Yuuri stumbled to his closet and pulled something on, clinging on to Victor for support. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” he whispered once he was fully dressed.

Victor smiled and picked him up.

“V-Victor!” Yuuri exclaimed.

“Admit it,” he said, opening the door with his foot as he carried Yuuri out, “you’re too tired to walk.”

For a moment he thought Yuuri would argue and really hoped he wouldn’t. He reached the top of a staircase and it needed all of his concentration to go down without dropping Yuuri. He couldn’t argue and go down the steps at the same time. He was certain of it.

But Yuuri didn’t argue. He wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck, not realizing that that was even worse.

 _One step at a time_ , he told himself. _Come on, I can do this_.

Surprisingly enough, he managed to bring Yuuri home without hurting anyone.

“Promise me you will go to sleep right away,” Victor said, taking Yuuri’s hand in both of his.

“I don’t think I can do anything else.” Yuuri turned around to unlock his door, hesitated and then turned back around to wrap his arms around Victor again. “Thank you,” he whispered and kissed Victor’s cheek before slipping away and disappearing into his apartment.

 

The more Victor saw Yuuri Katsuki, the better he knew him, the more surprised he was by how different the boy could be. When he was Eros he really lived up to that name: he was so sexy, a single sigh was enough to seduce anyone, a simple lick of the lips and the person watching was pregnant.

Yuuri Katsuki was cute. He was beautiful. He was gentle and kind. He had a heart as fragile as glass. He wormed his way into your heart with a single smile. He lit up your world. He made you want to protect him at all costs.

Yuuri could sit in an oversized sweater, his fingers sticking out of the too long sleeves as he picked up his cup, and make you accidentally spill your tea on yourself.

Victor stared down at his shirt in embarrassment as Yuuri wiped it dry.

Yuuri could then curl up in a chair in the same sweater and give you a sideways smile that made your knees weak. The sweater slid off one perfect shoulder and Victor watched it in fascination.

How did he do it?

Yuuri took him into his life and trusted him fully. After every performance Victor would find himself in the same room as Yuuri when the boy got undressed and that simple trust flattered him more than he could say.

That late afternoon found them in Yuuri’s apartment.

Victor watched Yuuri like a miracle and wondered how he could thank Yuuri for all of the happy days he’d given him.

Yuuri slipped off the chair and went to wash his cup.

Victor lowered his eyes. Yuuri was in a big thick sweater, yes, but he was also in a pair of tights that were just a little too see-through for it to be polite to watch him.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Yuuri offered.

At the sound of the word “walk” Makkachin, who’d been sleeping under the table, stuck his head out to remind his owner and his owner’s friend that he was still there. He circled Yuuri.

“I can see you really want one!” Yuuri laughed. “Hold on. I need to change.”

Victor remained in his spot and waited for Yuuri to return in something warm and sensible.

But when Yuuri did just that Victor felt a tinge of disappointment for some reason.

 

It was a cold day. The wind picked up the dead leaves from the ground and spun them around. Makkachin bounded after them, barking excitedly. Yuuri laughed and chased him.

It was perfect. It didn’t matter that winter was coming, or that it was almost the greyest time of the year when everything was so gloomy.

There was Victor and Yuuri found that he didn’t need anything else to raise his mood.

He stopped to beam at Victor. Victor’s face spread into a smile.

And the world stopped.

A sad melody cut in a whole eternity later, ended and then looped back to the beginning.

It took several seconds for them to remember that that sound was Victor’s ringtone.

Victor pulled out his phone, looked at his screen and his face fell.

Yuuri felt terrified. He pulled Makkachin towards him without thinking as Victor answered his phone.

“Sorry, Yuuri, I have to take this.” He walked away, leaving Yuuri with Makkachin.

The phone call was long and unpleasant. Several times Yuuri heard Victor raise his voice, which was something he never thought Victor would do.

“He can have it!” Victor exclaimed one time. “What does it matter to you, anyway?”

“No, I _don’t care_ what they write!” he exclaimed not long after.

The wind picked up and carried some of Victor’s words from where he was, carelessly dropping them on Yuuri without any context whatsoever.

And then it brought words Yuuri hadn’t been ready for: “…I know I don’t have a lot of time left, but this is _my_ choice!”

Yuuri felt his blood go cold. _He’s dying. Oh my God! I meet the perfect man and he’s dying!_ He covered his face with his hands. _Is this why he’s keeping his distance? I was so sure his friend would explain things to him. He understood._ He sighed and fought down his tears. _This is just my horrible luck._

He wasn’t going to cry. He just wasn’t.

Makkachin licked his face and Yuuri felt the tears come anyway. He clutched the dog tightly to his chest.

Victor was different from all the others. He was much better, for a start. He’d come into Yuuri’s life and given him happiness he’d never known before. Not since he’d left his home and family behind. Victor had done things for Yuuri without expecting anything in return.

And now the universe was going to take that away.

 _Maybe that’s not what he meant,_ he thought. _Maybe there’s another reason he’s running out of time._ He tried to think of one and couldn’t. _Maybe he has a deadline for something. Like a writer does, for example. I still don’t know what he does for a living, so…_

He was getting dangerously close to lying to himself and he knew it.

_Maybe I can do something to help you. Oh God! I would do anything, if I knew it would help. I would…_

He looked up to see Victor walking towards him with a frown on his face and his heart fell.

 _I would die to save you,_ he suddenly thought. He rose to his feet, hoping his eyes weren’t too red.

Victor’s face spread into a smile and Yuuri rushed to his side.

_Oh God! I’ve fallen in love with you!_

“Yuuri, your eyes are red. Are you alright?” Victor asked the moment Yuuri stopped.

“It’s just the wind. It’s making my eyes water,” Yuuri lied.

_I love you. And I hope to god I find a way to say it._

He looked at Victor as if he was seeing him for the first time. He took in every detail of his clothes and all of his features, committing them to memory, determined to preserve them all in his mind. He watched Victor smile down at Makkachin and then crouch down to pet him.

“Are your eyes watering from the wind, Makkachin?” He turned his attention back to Yuuri. “Do you want to go home?”

“No,” Yuuri said and took Victor’s hand. “No, let’s stay outside a little longer.”

They walked on until they found a bench in a place shielded from the wind and dropped down next to each other.

Makkachin jumped up and licked Victor’s face, making him laugh.

Was he really terminally ill? Was it possible that the world would be that cruel?

 _I need to know,_ Yuuri decided. _I don’t care how personal it is. I need to know for certain. There’s nothing worse than false hope._

“Victor,” he said, shifting closer to him. “You don’t look so good.” It was a lie. Victor looked like the healthiest person alive. “I mean: your face is an unhealthy colour. Are you alright?”

“Is it?” Victor asked. He put his hands on his face, as if trying to feel its colour with his fingers. “I didn’t… I saw a doctor recently and she told me I was completely fine.”

“Really?” He studied Victor closely, trying to see if he was telling the truth.

“Really.” Victor nodded. “Not even a little cold. “ He smiled. “Do I really look unhealthy?”

“No. I think… I think it’s just a trick of the light.” Yuuri shifted even closer. He raised his hand and brushed Victor’s hair out of his face. “That’s right: it’s just a trick of the light.”

Victor blushed. It wasn’t one of his usual blushes that made one think that all of the blood in his body had rushed to his face, but just a light colouring of his face.

Yuuri was really close now and very conscious of just how close he was. _I want to kiss you._

Victor shifted away and lowered his head. “I’m really sorry,” he said and Yuuri grabbed his hand with both of his own.

Here it came. He inhaled and willed himself to accept the news, no matter how terrible they were.

“There’s something I need to do,” Victor went on. “I need to go back to St. Petersburg for two weeks to do it.”

Yuuri let out the breath he’d been holding. “Have dinner with me,” he whispered.

“Sorry?”

“Let’s have dinner together tonight,” Yuuri said and reached out to brush Victor’s hair gently out of his face again. “I don’t have any performances tonight, so it will be just us the whole evening long.” _And the whole night, if you want._

Victor smiled. “A sort of goodbye dinner? What a great idea!”

 

Victor busied himself at the stove, cooking what they’d bought together several hours ago. Makkachin had rolled up under the kitchen table and was sleeping happily away.

A noise made him turn and he saw Yuuri come in, holding a candleholder with a candle in each hand. He was in a long white dress made of lace that was just a little bit sheer, as he discovered when Yuuri placed the candles on the table and turned off the light in the kitchen.

Yuuri smiled as the warm candlelight fell on his face. “What do you think?”

Victor nodded. “I like it.”

They sat down to dinner together. For a while it was quiet except for the sound of them eating.

“Yuuri, I want to ask you something, but I don’t want to offend you,” Victor began, keeping his eyes on his plate, too scared to see what Yuuri’s reaction would be.

“Ask away,” Yuuri said. “I will be more than happy to do something for you.”

“Thank you! I really appreciate it! I shouldn’t ask you this, I know, but…” Victor stammered on, unable to get to the point.

There was a warm smile on Yuuri’s face. It made Victor’s heart skip a beat. “I was hoping… um… If you don’t mind…”

“Yes?” he asked gently.

“Can you look after Makkachin while I’m gone?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time the song Yuuri sings is [Evil Night Together by Jill Tracy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Olp10zk3h-Q).


	10. Naïve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For maximum enjoyment, you have to imagine me writing this chapter on the bus while falling asleep because I am forever sleep-deprived.

It was late in the night when they exchanged tender goodbyes and promises to call each other. Victor paused in the doorway and Yuuri caught him in an embrace.

“When is your train?” he asked quietly.

“Tomorrow morning.” Victor pulled free and crouched down in front of Makkachin. “Be a good boy, Makkachin and look after Yuuri while I’m gone, alright?”

Makkachin barked and licked Victor’s face.

“I’ll look after him,” Yuuri promised.

Victor stood up and pulled Yuuri close again.

“Look after yourself,” Yuuri whispered into Victor’s ear.

Victor nodded. He was really clinging on to Yuuri now.

Yuuri could feel his own heart beat faster. “Who will spoil me with roses while you’re gone?”

He’d intended it as a joke to lighten the mood a little. He hadn’t expected Victor to pull away and say, “I arranged for delivery with the florist. You will get a bouquet every day for the two weeks I’m gone.”

Yuuri felt his mouth drop. “You didn’t have to…”

“I want to,” Victor said simply.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Yuuri whispered. _If you were anyone else, I wouldn’t have this problem, but then this wouldn’t happen with anyone else._

“You don’t need to thank me,” Victor said. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Wait here a minute,” Yuuri said, suddenly getting an idea. He slipped away to return with the deep red lipstick on his lips.

Before he could change his mind and before Victor could realize what he was about to do, Yuuri leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He pulled away and watched Victor blush.

And then he had another idea. “I had a… a person I went out with once, he…” Suddenly he wondered if this was something he should say to Victor, “he asked for my,” he paused and opted for the wrong word, “clothes.” Why did this feel so odd all of a sudden? “Do you want something of mine in exchange for all of the roses?” He debated what he could offer Victor.

“You don’t… you don’t… It’s fine.” Yuuri couldn’t help smiling at how flustered Victor was. But there was also something else in that face.

_He wants to ask for something, but he dare not say it. What could it be?_

He thought back to his different routines. Most of those clothes were in his change room back at the club, but some of them were here. He had a whole drawer of thongs he could offer Victor. Would he take one? Or maybe a corset? Or, perhaps, he wanted something else?

“Gloves,” Victor whispered.

“Sorry?”

Victor cleared his throat and smiled at Yuuri. “Can I take a pair of your gloves with me?”

Yuuri felt a little disappointed that it wasn’t something more intimate than that.

“One second,” he whispered and slipped away.

He went through the whole drawer until he found something he was satisfied with: a pair of elbow-length black lace gloves with buttons that ran from the elbow all the way to the wrist. He’d found them at a vintage sale and only wore them once. The lace was very delicate, and Yuuri suspected he would never find the courage to wear them on stage ever again.

“Here,” he offered them to Victor in his outstretched hands.

“I can’t take this!”

“Then think of it as borrowing,” Yuuri insisted. “You’ll return them to me when you come back.”

Victor lifted them reverentially to his lips and then he raised Yuuri’s hand to his lips. “I promise to return them.”

Yuuri pulled a hand through Victor’s hair, brushing it out of his face. He stared up into his eyes. It was getting really late, but he was ready to stay up all night if Victor wanted to.

“I need to go,” Victor whispered, as if afraid someone would hear him.

“Stay,” Yuuri whispered back, licked his lips and went on in a louder voice. “Stay with me. At least until your train.” And then, seeing Victor’s expression, the words slipped out that he hadn’t meant to say, “Do you really need to go?” They were rude and stupid. He had no right to say them. And yet…

“There’s something I need to take care of,” Victor said. He gave a heavy sigh. “And I will have to keep going back and forth now.”

Yuuri sighed as well. He could barely deal with this separation. How could he survive more?

Victor reached for the door and Yuuri caught him from behind. “I need to go,” Victor reminded him gently. “I’m sorry.”

Yuuri released him and Victor left.

It was dark outside, but Yuuri still ran to the balcony with Makkachin at his heels to wave Victor goodbye.

The thought of the next two weeks made his heart tremble.

 

Walks outside in the cold with your loved one were pleasant no matter what the weather was, but walks alone, even with Makkachin, were lonely and sad, as Yuuri discovered over the days that followed.

He stopped by the place where he’d run into the water and a smile appeared on his face.

“Yuuri!” The sound of a familiar voice made him turn.

Phichit was rushing down the street towards him. Yuuri waited patiently for his friend to catch up. They hadn’t seen each other for several months, but Yuuri wasn’t sure if he wanted to see Phichit in that moment.

“Yuuri! Oh!” Phichit halted a few steps away from him. “When did you get a dog?”

Makkachin greeted Phichit enthusiastically and got his fur scratched in return. Phichit crouched down, repeating “who’s a good dog?” over and over again.

“He’s not mine. I’m looking after him for someone,” Yuuri answered.

Phichit looked up. “Oh? Then whose dog is it?”

As if in answer to this question, Yuuri’s phone rang. He nearly dropped it when he saw who the caller was. None of his previous lovers had ever made him tremble like that.

“Hello?”

“Yuuri!” Victor’s voice called out happily and for a moment Yuuri felt as if the man was there in person, running to him with his arms spread wide.

“Victor…”

“I can’t really talk right now, but I wanted to know how you’re doing, so I called anyway.”

“Thank you.” He noticed the curious looks Phichit was throwing at him and turned away. “I’m alright. How are you?”

“I miss you,” Victor said.

What could Yuuri say to that, but “me too” and then regret that those two words were not enough? _I miss you ever second of every day._

“Chris is here. He says hello,” Victor went on.

“Yes, I do,” Chris cut in.

“Hello, Chris,” Yuuri answered, feeling Phichit’s hand on his arm.

“I need to go,” Victor said.

 _No, not yet. I need to hear your voice some more._ “Makkachin is doing well,” Yuuri added, feeling foolish.

“I knew you would look after him,” Victor said. He hesitated and then whispered something hastily into the phone that may have been, “wish me luck” or may have been something else entirely.

“Good luck,” Yuuri whispered back, hoping that was the right answer.

“Bye, Yuuri!”

And the conversation ended.

He stood with his phone in his hand and a smile on his face, lost in another world.

Each morning when the roses arrived he arranged them in his room. He was starting to run out of vases and bottles and other things to put them in. Each new rose that arrived got a kiss and a whispered promise that Victor would get that kiss too.

“Yuuri,” Phichit cut into his thoughts, “who was that on the phone?”

The smile on Yuuri’s face widened. “Victor.”

“Look at you! You’re almost glowing!” Phichit elbowed him lightly.

“I found someone new, Phichit. He’s perfect. He’s really handsome. He hasn’t tried to come onto me even once and treats me like a prince!” Yuuri felt the blood rush to his cheeks as he boasted. “He’s very, very good to me. I’ve never met someone like him before!”

Phichit put an arm around Yuuri. “Will you introduce me sometime? Or are you going to keep him all to yourself?”

_I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to._

 

Victor was gone for a week when Yuuri started to miss him so much it hurt.

That evening he went out on the stage in a suit. It was his first suit day in a long while.

But he discarded it fairly quickly, slipping it off like a shell and emerging in a body suit made out of black lace with his arms raised triumphantly. He put one foot on the chair in front of him, as if to better show the stiletto heel of his boot as the music played on. He didn’t sing this time. He just wasn’t in the mood.

The audience whistled and screamed.

One of the dancers stepped out onto the stage with a tray in her arms. Yuuri picked up the item she brought for him and raised it so he could grab it with his teeth.

It was a riding crop.

The audience liked this even more.

He already knew what sort of offers he’d get after a number like this one. He could see the notes they’d slip under his door. And he was glad that Victor wouldn’t be there to see any of it.

He probably didn’t even know what a riding crop was.

Yuuri half-turned away from the audience as he swung it in his hand.

There it was again: the desire to leave the club and go do something else. Not because he didn’t enjoy what he did, but because he was suddenly conscious of a deep desire for a change.

They screamed for more after he left, but he didn’t go back.

“Hey!” a voice called out and a man stood in the middle of the hall, blocking his way. “You free tonight?”

“No,” Yuuri lied and pushed past the man.

“What’s wrong?” the man insisted. “Did you break up with your boyfriend?”

“No. He’s waiting for me,” Yuuri lied.

The man stepped up to Yuuri and the performer recoiled from the smell of his breath. “He can wait. I’ll bet he ain’t going anywhere.” The man laughed, disgusting Yuuri even more.

Only later Yuuri realized what he’d meant. It said a lot about the effect Victor was having on him that Yuuri’s first reaction was to think of the days of waiting ahead of him and sigh and not comment on what the man was hinting at.

“I’m tired,” Yuuri said, “and _really_ not in the mood. If you don’t leave right now, I’ll make sure you never step inside this club ever again.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” Yuuri said and crossed his arms, with the look of someone prepared to wait all day.

“Sorry, Yuuri,” Two big, well-built men in suits stepped up on either side of the man giving Yuuri a hard time, “we’ll take it from here.”

Yuuri returned to his room, leaned against his door and put a hand over his heart. And to think that a year ago he would’ve gone off with a man like _that_!

 _Maybe not_ exactly _like that,_ Yuuri conceded, remembering how ugly and repulsive the man was.

He sat down to pull his boots off and remembered a similar situation two weeks ago.

 

_“My feet are killing me,” Yuuri muttered, dropping into a chair and reaching down, but Victor beat him to it._

_He descended onto his knees, raised one foot gently with his hands, placed it on his knee and unzipped the boot as carefully as he could._

_Yuuri sighed and closed his eyes._ Now for some cold water, _he thought as Victor unzipped his second boot._ And maybe my feet won’t hurt in the morning.

_Victor brought the water for him before he could even say anything._

 

Yuuri stared at the roses in his room. That morning an extra delivery had been made to the club.

 _How can I ever thank you enough?_ Yuuri wondered.

The answer to that question came to him when he returned to his apartment.

 _I found a photo that didn’t make it into the Playboy Magazine,_ he wrote to Victor the next day. _Do you want me to send it to you?_

 _Yes, please,_ Victor replied.

Yuuri wished he could’ve been there to see Victor’s face when he saw it. He wondered what his reaction was. Did he stare at it in the same way he’d looked at all of the ads with Yuuri? Or was there a different expression on his face this time? And then he wondered if he would ever tell Victor that it was just a photo that he’d taken himself. He’d edited it a little until he got something that almost looked like something that could’ve been in a magazine, but still it was a little bit obvious he’d taken it with his phone.

There were two versions of the photo and Yuuri, for the first time in his life, had a photo of himself he was too embarrassed to send to anyone.

When they talked about it the next day Yuuri considered flirting with Victor over the phone, but for some reason it felt wrong and he focused instead on making the conversation sound as natural as possible. But most of all he was doing his best to forget how awkward it was to take photos of himself that were supposed to look like something from a magazine.

 

Victor stared at the picture Yuuri had sent, unable to take his eyes off of it. Every detail of it was perfect. It was obvious that the photographer had sat down and really thought about what they wanted to capture.

Yuuri lay amid a large pile of roses, holding one of them coyly to his heart. There was deep red lipstick on his lips that matched the hue of the roses and, apart from that lipstick, he wasn’t wearing anything else. His other hand was draped artfully over his privates, concealing them from view.

He was glad Yuuri had sent him the photo early in the morning. There was just no way he could’ve slept after seeing a photo like that.

But what an amazing coincidence that he’d picked out roses that were exactly the same colour as the ones in this photo!

 _Or maybe_ , he thought, _it’s just the colour that suits Yuuri best and that’s why we both picked the same one._ He thought some more about this. _On the other hand, I haven’t seen a single colour that didn’t suit Yuuri._

He slipped his phone into his inner pocket next to Yuuri’s gloves and left the house. Whenever he felt sad that day, he would pull his phone out and look at that photo again.

His time back home wasn’t going well. His apartment was empty without Makkachin and everyone who was usually on his side was now united against him. Coming back home felt like dropping into the middle of a war.

He’d negotiated for permission to go back every two weeks, but would he be able to deal with it? Switching back and forth between heaven and hell (or so he called it anyway), wasn’t going to be easy. Everything was so much better with Yuuri around. Yuuri never demanded anything from him, never got upset with him and definitely never raised his voice at him.

For the second time that year Victor was asking himself what he really wanted from life and what it was all for. The last time he’d asked himself the same question he felt like a man standing on the edge of a bottomless pit, looking down at the darkness below. Yuuri had pulled him away from that darkness.

As he left the house and drove where he’d meet everyone else, he tried to think of Yuuri instead of what awaited him.

The radio took pity on him and played one of Yuuri’s songs to keep him company.

“ _If I could write some words don’t you know?_

_Still the people will say cha cha cha let’s go,_

_So we’ll just leave it this way and we’ll say_

_It’s the bla bla cha cha cha._ ”

He remembered how they’d danced the cha-cha with no music and wondered how many other dances Yuuri knew and promised himself to find out. He imagined walking down the street with Yuuri, hearing a musician play and pulling him into another dance. And he knew Yuuri would go along with it.

The song changed to a slower and more sensual one and he remembered hearing it at the club one evening when he went upstairs to Yuuri’s room.

 

_He knocked on the door, but no one answered and he prepared to leave when one of the performers came up the stairs and saw him._

_“Go right in,” she told him. “He probably just stepped out for a minute. He’ll be back soon.” She saw him hesitate and added. “He won’t mind you waiting inside, I’m sure.”_

_Victor opened the door slowly and peered in._

_Yuuri slept on the bed, dressed in nothing but the lace lingerie he’d demonstrated on the stage less than ten minutes ago._

_Victor closed the door behind him and walked in as quietly as he could. He pulled off his coat and draped it over Yuuri. The performer turned over onto his side and kept sleeping._

_Victor sat down in the chair next to him. After hesitating for several minutes, he reached out and took Yuuri’s hand in both of his._

_Still Yuuri slept on._

Two evenings later Victor returned home in a bad mood. The day hadn’t been a complete catastrophe, but he couldn’t help feeling like it might as well have been one. Not for the first time he asked himself why he bothered coming back, why he didn’t just stay with Yuuri.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

There was a message from Yuuri.

_I was cleaning out the shelves today and found another old ad. I don’t know if you’ve seen this one before._

_I miss you._

He downloaded the attachment and opened it without stopping to think what he would see. A smile spread over his face and suddenly the day was much better and life wasn’t as hopeless as it had been a minute ago.

Yuuri lay on his back on a deck chair, looking like life was the most wonderful thing. He was in a red bikini with white polka dots and a pair of big Mickey Mouse ears.

He stared at the photo for at least ten minutes before calling Yuuri.

“It’s beautiful, Yuuri!”

“I’m glad you think so. I can give you the magazine with the ad when you come back,” Yuuri offered.

“Thank you!”

He thought about the wall of his room in Chris’s apartment. The same wall that was covered with erotic pictures of Yuuri. He would need to take them down and bring them to St. Petersburg with him next time. He stared at the bare walls of his bedroom. There was more than enough space for them here.

And then he wondered if there was any chance that Yuuri would find more of those ads.

 

_Yuuri lay on his stomach on a blanket on the beach. He was in that red bikini with white polka dots, the Mouse ears and even had a little black tail. Victor lay on the blanket beside him in a pair of regular swimming trunks._

_The sun beat down on them, but for some reason it was really cold._

_“Can you rub some sunscreen on my back?” Yuuri asked Victor, looking at him over his shoulder._

_But all Victor could see were the boy’s red lips and how close they were._

_“I…”_

Victor awoke and stared up at the ceiling, trying to remember why it was so cold. Oh yes, he was back home in St. Petersburg and not in the spare bedroom of Chris’s apartment. And he was definitely not on the beach. And Yuuri was definitely not lying beside him in that red and white bikini. He put his hand over his eyes and willed the dream to come back.

But it didn’t.

 

The regulars watched Eros and exchanged knowing looks. Eros was really in love this time, much more than he’d ever been. They knew him well enough to spot the signs. And they all had a good hunch they knew who the lucky man was.

Eros wasn’t dancing or singing this time. He walked among them in a dress made entirely of pearls that left his back completely open. His hand trailed over the back of each chair he passed until he got to the place in the front.

The rumours were already going around about the young man who claimed the best seat in the club. Now Eros stopped in front of him and picked up the champagne bottle that stood next to him on the table.

The young man smiled happily up at him and the people who sat closest to him all shared one thought, _He has no idea what Eros is about to do._

With a sly smile Eros lifted the bottle and, leaning against the table and keeping his eyes fixed on the young man, poured its contents over himself.

The young man’s jaw dropped and all the blood rushed to his face.

Eros raised the bottle to his lips and finished off whatever remained. He returned the bottle to the table and walked back to the stage as the champagne dripped off him.

The audience erupted in applause.

Several dancers ran out onto the stage and Eros stopped walking. He half-turned to the audience, smiled and, together with the other dancers, broke out into a synchronized dancing routine.

Still the champagne dripped onto the stage. And no one in the audience missed this little detail. Or how his wet skin shone under the lights.

 

When Victor came Yuuri was ready. He waited for the knock and, as soon as the door opened, he caught Victor in an embrace, forgetting completely that he was still in the dress from before.

“I missed you,” he said, his arms around Victor.

“I… uh…” Victor stammered, caught completely off guard, “I missed you too,” he said at last and returned the embrace, resting his head on Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri had hoped he would get to meet Victor at the train station and then ask him all about the trip, but Victor’s flight back was delayed and he had to take a later train, and Yuuri had work that evening, and… Well, the number with the champagne was their reunion. Yuuri played his role, all while looking at Victor and trying to guess by his face if everything was fine.

“I thought about you every day,” Yuuri whispered. He closed his eyes. “I don’t want you to leave me ever again.” There. He’d said it. Not exactly the way he’d meant to, but he was getting there.

“I want to stay here with you,” Victor whispered back. But his tone suggested that something was keeping him from staying. Something was pulling him away.

Yuuri released him and looked into his face. “Kiss me,” he whispered.

Victor raised Yuuri’s hand to his lips.

“No, not like that!” Yuuri exclaimed impatiently and withdrew his hand.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Victor whispered.

“Why not?”

Victor pulled his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri closed his eyes. “I’m not sure I would satisfy you.”

“I don’t believe that,” he whispered.

He felt Victor’s lips press against his own. It was a chaste kiss, but for the first time in his life Yuuri had the sensation of being completely naked while being fully dressed.

Victor pulled away. “You see?” he whispered. “I told you, I can’t –”

Yuuri kept his eyes closed. “Let’s go back to my place,” he whispered. _Please say yes_.

He felt Victor’s hands take his. “You need to rest after work.”

Work. He’d actually called it work. No one had ever called it that before. Not any of the people Yuuri had ever gone out with.

Yuuri’s eyes snapped open. “I’m not tired and I want to spend time with you.”

“Not today,” Victor whispered.

 _Are you playing hard to get? Because it’s working really well._ But Victor’s mind was so alien to Yuuri, he might as well have been from another planet.


	11. You Won’t Admit You Love Me

A velvet night descended on the city as Victor waited impatiently for the doors of the club to open and let him in. He held his usual bouquet of roses in his arms. There was just the hint of a smile on his face.

The people around him complained about the cold, but he didn’t feel it. He was about to see Yuuri. If that meant he had to stand outside in a metre of snow for an hour or two, he was prepared to do it.

He’d spent the day thinking of Yuuri. They couldn’t go on like this indefinitely. A day would come when either he would have to confess or Yuuri would find someone else, leaving Victor to watch from the sidelines. At least, that was what Chris had said that morning when Victor told him that they weren’t really going out.

 

_Chris watched him after he said those words and Victor couldn’t help feeling like they’d been some sort of test._

_“I’m not good enough for him,” Victor said at last, his heart tightening in his chest at the thought of Yuuri finding someone else._

_“Really?_ Victor Nikiforov _not good enough for something? Can I get that in writing with your signature at the bottom?” Chris teased._

_“Please, Chris!” Victor protested. It was easy for him to make jokes about it: he wouldn’t have had a problem dating a sex god._

_Chris put an arm around him. “You don’t need to look so terrified. Besides, you don’t know how he feels. For all you know, he might like you back.”_

_“That’s even worse…” Victor whispered, lowering his eyes._

_“Worse?”_

_“It means that I found someone who genuinely likes me only to drive him off.”_

_“Why are you so convinced that you’ll drive him off?” Chris asked._

_“You know why! I’ve never dated anyone before and I have no idea how to do it,” Victor explained._

_Chris laughed and clapped him on the back. “I wouldn’t worry about it, if I were you.”_

_“That’s easy for you to say.”_

_“Really, Victor, you’re just overdramatizing things, as usual.”_

_“No,” Victor argued, “I’m being realistic.”_

_“No,” Chris contradicted him, “you’re being stupid. Why don’t you skip all this pining nonsense and tell him how you feel?”_

_“And then what?” Victor asked in a terrified whisper._

_Chris shrugged. “And then, whatever happens, happens.” Victor opened his mouth to argue with this, but Chris didn’t let him get a word in. “Listen, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It will take a lot more than being bad at sex to drive him away. I’m prepared to bet my life on it.”_

_“But – but –” Victor spluttered._

_“He’ll be more than happy to teach you how it’s done, I’m sure.”_

_“But I don’t know_ anything _, at_ all _!” Victor went on protesting. Why didn’t Chris understand? Why couldn’t he make Chris understand?_

_Chris laughed. “Even better. You’ll learn it the right way from the start. Come on. Promise me you’ll confess.”_

_“Chris, I –”_

_“Victor,” Chris said in a warning tone, “trust me on this. Okay? Now promise.”_

_Victor sighed. “I promise.”_

_“Good.”_

The doors opened to let them in and Victor found himself thinking, _I never promised_ when _, though._

Before taking his seat he went to Yuuri’s room to leave the flowers for him there. As always, Yuuri was somewhere backstage, preparing for this evening’s performance and, as always, Victor lingered in Yuuri’s room a little to arrange the roses as perfectly as he could. As a final touch, he pulled a box of chocolates out of his pocket and placed it in front of the mirror where Yuuri would see it.

It was his little apology for all his mistakes.

 

There were a lot of girls on the stage in tight body suits with big smiles on their faces, but the spotlight went around, as if looking for someone among them.

“ _You won’t admit you love me_ ,” Eros sang out and the dancers stepped aside to reveal him in the middle of the stage, “ _and so how am I ever to know?_ ” He stepped forward as he sang and rewarded the audience with a wink. “ _You only tell me,_ ” he rolled his shoulders sensually and turned around to show off his back as he slid his hands down over his sides, “ _perhaps, perhaps, perhaps._ ” He turned to face the audience and fell back into the waiting arms of the dancers. He kicked one leg playfully in the air before standing up again.

This met with the audience’s approval: they laughed and clapped, receiving a smile from Eros in return.

Eros was in a shiny jacket with coat-tails, a deep red bowtie, a white shirt, a black thong and a pair of black heels. It was an outfit the audience had never seen on him before, but it met with their approval. The girls dropped onto their knees around Eros holding out their hands to make a staircase and Eros climbed it.

When he got to the top he half turned to the audience and continued to sing. “ _If you can’t make your mind up,_ ” his jacket slid down off his shoulders to excited screams from the audience, “ _we’ll never get started._ ” He pulled it back up, one eyebrow raised as the audience chanted for him to take it off. “ _And I don’t wanna wind up being parted, broken hearted_.” He jumped off the impromptu staircase.

Two dancers stepped up behind him and he shrugged his coat off into their eager hands as another pair of dancers stood on either side of him with two big feather fans. They held them away from Eros as he pulled his bowtie off and handed it to one of the performers.

“ _Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps,_ ” Eros sang on as he unbuttoned his shirt.

The fans dropped down as soon as all the buttons were undone.

And then up they went and there was Eros: shirtless and with a sly smile on his face.

He reached out and took both fans into his hands and danced, his legs kicking out from under the fans. He spun them around himself playfully, as if trying to keep himself covered, but every couple of seconds a bare shoulder would peek out, or a the feathers would part to show his chest and one of the pasties on it. A pair of dark eyes sparkled mischievously at the audience, at odds with the song. Could anyone really say “perhaps” to a young man like this?

“ _So if you really love me_ ,” the song went on, “ _say yes, but if you don’t dear, confess._ ” Eros spread his arms out, putting his body on full display.

The dancers took the fans away and he stepped forward to sit down on the edge of the stage. He crossed his legs in that way that only he could, that excited everyone, and sang with his chin in his hand, as if confiding in the audience.

“ _So if you really love me, say yes,_ ” he told them, “ _but if you don’t dear, confess. And please don’t tell me perhaps, perhaps, perhaps_.”

The song ended and Eros blew a kiss. “And _perhaps_ I’ll swallow you up,” he said in a stage whisper, sliding his hands down his slides and licking his lips with his mouth partially open. He got up, turned away, took his coat from one of the dancers only to swing it over one shoulder and walked off with a slight sway of the hips.

Someone in the audience fainted.

 

As soon as the performance was over and Victor’s legs could support him, he rushed into Yuuri’s room, barely remembering to stop and knock this time. He dropped on his knees in front of Yuuri and kissed his hands. “I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, looking up into his face.

“Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault.” There was a sad look in Yuuri’s eyes. The sight of it made Victor’s heart ache. The performer wasn’t even looking at Victor. His eyes were on his reflection instead.

“What do you mean?” Victor asked. _Of course it’s my fault! I’m the one who hasn’t said anything! I’m the one terrified of making a move._ He pressed his face against Yuuri’s hands. _Oh God, Yuuri! You’ve given me so much and I’m so scared to drive you away, but here I am driving you away anyway._

“I’m getting evicted,” Yuuri went on. “Those old cows got their way in the end.” He sighed. “Oh well, it was bound to happen sooner or later and at least they gave me a month to make my decision.”

“What decision?” Victor asked, raising his head at last.

Yuuri smiled sadly at him. “I’m tired of being here. I’ve spent five years working at this club. It’s time to move on somewhere else.” He brushed a strand of hair out of Victor’s face.

“You’re leaving The Blue Dancer?” Victor whispered, feeling the terror rise inside him.

“I might,” Yuuri said. “I haven’t decided yet.” His face spread in a dazzling smile. “Now what are _you_ apologizing for?”

_I don’t deserve you. The minute I give myself up to you, you will see that and leave. I just know it. Oh god! Why didn’t I ever insist that Chris teach me everything he knew? Why did I come up with excuses and avoid everyone who came my way? Why didn’t I have a boyfriend or two just to know how it’s done?_

“I don’t want you to leave,” Victor whispered. “I have no right to ask you to do anything you don’t want to do, but,” he sighed, “you’re so good at dancing! How can you leave it?”

“I never said anything about quitting dancing.”

Victor gave a relieved sigh. “Then I’ll follow you anywhere you go,” he whispered passionately. A blush spread over his face, but he wasn’t going to look away from Yuuri’s face now.

Yuuri slipped his hands out of Victor’s only to take them in return. “So,” he said with a sly smile, “what _were_ you apologizing for?”

He couldn’t look at Yuuri now. He just couldn’t. He lowered his eyes and mumbled something. He had to say it _now_ , but could he? Did he have the courage he needed for it?

Slow music was coming up through the floor, filling the room. There was something bewitching about being on his knees in front of Yuuri with seductive music in the air around them.

“I love you,” Yuuri whispered, “more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

Victor raised his head.

“ _Now_ will you tell me what you were apologizing for?” Yuuri asked after a pause and Victor noticed the blush in his cheeks.

“For not confessing first,” Victor whispered.

Yuuri stood up and pulled Victor up to his feet. “Then confess to me now.”

“I-I love you, Yuuri,” Victor whispered.

Yuuri pushed him gently against the wall. “Kiss me.”

He wanted to protest again that he didn’t know how, but Yuuri beat him to it and leaned in really close until their faces were a few centimetres apart.

“Kiss me,” he repeated.

Victor pressed his lips against Yuuri’s. Several minutes of pure bliss followed as he did his best to think of something other than how close all of Yuuri was to him.

Yuuri pulled away. “I want to show you a different type of kiss. Can you open your mouth for me a little?”

“Why?”

“You’ll see,” Yuuri promised, a twinkle in his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Instead of an answer Victor leaned in for a kiss. He felt Yuuri’s tongue slip into his mouth and reclined against the wall as he felt his knees tremble. Without really thinking about it, he raised his hands and grabbed Yuuri’s shoulders. Yuuri moved closer, pressing his body against Victor’s.

He was definitely going to faint now.

 

Yuuri let himself go, forgetting this was Victor in front of him and not someone else. Dear Victor who hadn’t expected Yuuri to make his move.

_I’ve got you now and I promise I won’t let you go, no matter what happens._

He pulled himself away after a while and took in the expression on Victor’s face. His face was red and he was having trouble breathing. That dear, dear face was staring at him in surprise.

He really was innocent. So innocent he’d never even kissed anyone before.

Yuuri restrained himself from doing anything else. He would have to take it slow with Victor, or risk overwhelming him with everything all at once.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I think so…”

“Come on, let’s go home.”

There was that old excitement again. _Calm down, Yuuri,_ he told himself, _or you’ll swallow him up, if you’re not careful._

Victor stumbled out of the room to let him change and Yuuri decided he wouldn’t argue. He wasn’t sure what he would do once he pulled his dressing gown off.

He caught his reflection’s eye and saw the smile on his own face. _Let them evict me as many times as they want. I’m not going to bother arguing._

Before Victor had come in, before Yuuri had read the confession in his eyes, he’d been lost in sad thoughts about his little apartment with its geranium balcony. Now he was prepared to give it all up at the promise of something new, something better.

He took his time getting dressed, pulling on a thick sweater and wrapping himself up in a long coat. The faint smell of winter was in the air that afternoon and it would only be colder now.

When he stepped out of his room he found Victor standing awkwardly in front of one of the dancers, who must’ve just returned from the stage. She was almost completely naked and flirted with Victor, either not seeing how uncomfortable it made him, or enjoying the effect she was having.

“Victor, I’m ready,” he said, closing the door behind him. He noticed the look of relief on his face and took his hand. “He’s with me,” Yuuri told the dancer with a smile.

The dancer opened her mouth, but Victor wasn’t even looking at her anymore. All his attention was focused on Yuuri.

She probably said something, but Yuuri was too busy staring at Victor to hear what it was.

They went home together in a comfortable silence.

This time Yuuri didn’t insist Victor stay. Instead they spent forever saying goodbye.

“Can I ask for another kiss?” Victor said, after four or five “goodbyes” were exchanged back and forth.

That evening ended with a sweet kiss.

 

The girls on the stage ran around, giggling and blushing. Victor had arrived in the afternoon when the performers were still practicing. To his great surprise, the man at the door had let him in without question.

Victor smiled at the dancers. “Sorry for interrupting your practice. I want a word with Yuuri.”

“He’s over there,” one of them said and pointed.

“No, over there,” the other pointed in a different direction.

They ran down from the stage and surrounded him. Victor found himself in the centre of a circle of girls all in short sailor uniforms with skirts that almost covered their behinds, but didn’t and tops that did an even worse job of covering their chests. What made them even less practical, from Victor’s point of view, was the fact that they were sheer, so that when the light fell at the right angle (that is: any angle), he could see what colour and shape of undergarments they were all wearing. For a reason that was completely incomprehensible to him they all wore bright colours under their mostly white uniforms.

Then Victor noticed that one of them didn’t have to deal with inconvenient bouncing. “Hello, Yuuri.”

The girls laughed. Yuuri stepped forward.

“New routine?” Victor asked.

Yuuri turned on the spot. “What do you think?” the skirt rose up all the way and Victor was treated to a sight of more of Yuuri’s bare skin than he’d been prepared for at that moment.

“V-very fetching,” he said and coughed.

“And it’s easy to take off.” Yuuri raised a hand and pulled the zipper down. The sailor uniform no real sailor had ever worn (but wouldn’t have objected to seeing on any of the dancers) split apart and tumbled onto the ground. Yuuri stood in nothing but a thong. “See what I mean?”

“Yes.” _God, I thought I’d get used to this over time, but I don’t think I ever will._

Yuuri went on, oblivious to Victor’s reaction. “I’m going to cover myself in gold sparkles.” He slid his hands over his chest. “Or maybe wear a gold thong…” he added in a quieter tone of voice.

One of the dancers held up Yuuri’s sailor uniform. “Come on, Yuuri, put it back on! We need to practice!”

Victor sat down and watched them practice, forgetting why he’d come and what he’d wanted to talk to Yuuri about.

 

When the evening came it was hard to believe that the dancers on the stage were the same as the ones who’d spent the afternoon falling over each other and collapsing into giggling fits at the slightest provocation.

The spotlight fell on a stage full of girls in sailor uniforms with their backs to the audience. They snapped their fingers and chanted together, swinging their hips to the beat. “ _Candy man… Candy man…_ ”

The person in the middle turned to wink at the audience over his shoulder, revealing himself to be Eros. “ _Sweet, sugar, candy man,_ ” he sang and gave a nod, as if greeting the audience.

The dancers spread out across the stage. Eros turned fully and sang. “ _I met him out for dinner on a Friday night._ ” He walked from one end of the stage to the other with just a hint of a smile on his face.

“ _He’s a one stop shop, makes the panties drop_ ,” a pair of black underwear slid down Eros’s legs, “ _He's a sweet talkin’ sugar coated candy man_.”

The blood rushed to Victor’s face. Not content with this effect, Eros stepped down from the stage and walked towards Victor.

He stopped several inches away from Victor, put an arm on the back of his chair and circled it slowly as he continued. “ _He took me to the Spider club on Hollywood and Vine_ ,” he sang, stopping in front of him to slide a hand over his face.

Victor’s eyes dropped to what one of the dancers had told him was called a boob window. At that moment he would’ve agreed to call it anything Eros wanted. He could barely tell what Eros was singing half the time.

“ _He’s a one stop shop, makes my cherry pop_ ,” Eros went on. “ _He’s a sweet talkin’ sugar coated candy man._ ”

The dancers flocked down to him and he backed away. “ _A sweet talkin’ sugar coated candy man_ ,” they repeated together, tugging apart the tops of their uniforms and leaning forward. Eros blew Victor a kiss. His sailor uniform dropped away in the blink of an eye and for a moment it looked as if he was dressed in nothing but big and little sparkles. He turned and the light moved away to reveal his gold thong. His chest sparkled.

Victor’s heart beat faster.

“ _A sweet talkin’ sugar coated candy man_ ,” Eros repeated. He licked his lips and leaned forward, sliding his hands down his hips. The audience cheered and whistled and made all kinds of noises.

Victor sat without making a single noise, unable to take his eyes off Eros.

The performer turned his back to the audience, repeated the last line, raised his shoulder playfully and – there was really no other word for it – plucked the back strap of his thong.

“Sleep with me, Eros!” someone shouted enthusiastically.

But Eros walked away without another word, giving a little farewell wave.

The girls went through the last steps of the dance before pulling their uniforms off and freezing in the final position. The music ended to be replaced by giggles and enthusiastic waves until the curtain fell.

 

Once the boy finished and left Victor ran off to his room. He caught up with Yuuri at the door and stopped, unsure of what to do next.

Yuuri turned and gave him a smile. He was still only in the thong. He opened the door and walked in, Victor following close behind him.

“What did you think?” he asked and sat down by the mirror. Victor took the other chair without thinking.

He must’ve known what kind of effect he had on people. That was his job to get that kind of reaction, but Victor saw the innocent smile and felt lost.

“Yuuri…” he said, his face red and his heart beating fast, “…you were… amazing, like always.”

There was a chuckle and suddenly Yuuri was standing over him. “Candy man…” he whispered.

Victor took his hand and kissed it.

Yuuri pulled it away gently and climbed onto Victor’s lap. He grabbed Victor’s head with both hands and kissed him, shifting forward as he poured more of himself into the kiss.

And Victor responded. He’d done it without thinking, reaching forward, eager for a taste of Yuuri.

Yuuri pulled away, but Victor caught him again.

“I… uh…” Yuuri began, pulling away a second time and resting his forehead against Victor’s. “I think we got the timing wrong… In the dance, I mean.”

“It looked alright to me,” Victor insisted, lowering his hands onto Yuuri’s shoulders.

Yuuri smiled. “Can you put your hands on my thighs?”

How could he respond to a request like that? “Y-Yuuri?”

“Please?” Yuuri whispered.

Victor did as Yuuri asked.

“Now slide them like this,” Yuuri moved Victor’s hands to show what he meant.

Victor tried not to dwell too long on the fact that he was stroking Eros’s thighs and watched Yuuri’s reaction instead. He told himself that as soon as Yuuri showed any sign of not liking what Victor was doing he would let go.

Yuuri sighed and Victor felt him shudder.

“Are you cold?” Victor asked quietly

“No I … I can’t believe how much I missed this…” He sighed again. “More,” he whispered, “just a little bit more…”

Unable to tear his eyes away from Yuuri or to turn his request down, Victor obliged.

“Take your jacket off,” Yuuri whispered, undoing the buttons.

Victor removed it clumsily. He couldn’t help thinking how much better Yuuri was at undressing than he was.

“And your shirt,” Yuuri added. “It’s too warm in here.”

How could anyone not obey Eros’s orders? Was there anyone so made of stone that they could resist his charms and object to being pulled towards the bed by Eros himself?

Victor felt his old fears rise inside him. What if Yuuri didn’t enjoy their time together? How could he make it up to him afterwards?

He dropped onto the bed, his head hitting the pillow as Yuuri climbed over him. Victor was already half naked and Yuuri was still only in his thong.

“I want you,” Yuuri said, sliding his hands over Victor’s chest. “Even if you break my heart like all the others, I still want you.”

Victor closed his eyes. “Only a cruel person would break your heart, Yuuri.” _I won’t break your heart, but I’m scared I’ll be a big disappointment._

Yuuri laughed. “Are you a cruel person?”

“No.” Victor’s eyes snapped open.

“Will you take care of me?” Yuuri asked.

Victor looked up into his honest eyes. Everything Yuuri did he committed his entire self to. He didn’t do things by halves and even in performing and assuming different roles there was a kind of honesty.

“Yuuri, I want you to go to St. Petersburg with me,” Victor suddenly said.

He blushed. He’d meant to make the offer that afternoon. He was going to sit Yuuri down and have a serious conversation with him about it to show that he meant it. He hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that! But he couldn’t take his words back now. All he could do was try his best to convince Yuuri that they weren’t said on the spur of the moment.

“I’ll find you the best Burlesque club in the city,” he promised. “And I have no doubt that they’ll take you. And if they don’t, then I’ll make them change their minds.”

Yuuri stared with his mouth slightly open.

“I can’t… um… It’s better for me to move back and this way… this way we can stay together,” Victor concluded, looking away for a moment and then raising his eyes to Yuuri’s face again. “I want to stay with you. Forever.”

Yuuri made a chocked sound, raised his hands to his face and cried.

“Thank you…” he said as another sob passed through his body. “No one has ever… They’ve never offered to…”

He went on weeping and Victor felt a prick of pain at the sight of each tear that rolled down Yuuri’s cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said, “I don’t know why I’m crying now, of all times.”

“You’re tired,” Victor said, understanding all too well why Yuuri was crying, and pulled Yuuri down to him, hugging him close to his chest. “It’s been a long day. You’ve worked with barely any rest. You need to go home and sleep.”

“But what about…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take you home.” _Has no one really offered to take you away with them? How is that even possible when I know now that I don’t want to spend a single minute apart from you?_

Yuuri got up and got dressed. Victor looked away. For the first time the mask had fallen to show the broken boy beneath it. Victor put his hands against his face. He felt tears form in his own eyes. He forced himself to sit up and get dressed. He pulled himself together just as Yuuri did the same next to him.

They walked to Yuuri’s apartment holding hands tightly, as if afraid to let go. Victor’s heart tightened painfully in his chest, but he kept smiling. Everything was fine.

When they got to the door of Yuuri’s apartment Victor released his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Yuuri caught him in an embrace, burying his face in Victor’s chest. “Thank you.” He raised his head and looked into Victor’s face. “Next time, I promise.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Victor whispered, “so don’t worry about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of versions of people singing the first song in this chapter, as it turns out. The version I had in mind when I wrote this chapter is [Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps by Emma Bunton](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XmwVdaVnMgM). The second song in this chapter is [Candy Man by Christina Aguilera](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ScjucUV8v0), but I suspect that most of you know it.


	12. Dinner with Eros

When Victor dropped by Yuuri’s apartment the next day he didn’t come empty-handed. In fact, his hands were completely full: he’d gone grocery shopping right before coming there.

Opening doors was hard with a good dozen of bags in his arms, but none of that mattered.

He felt like he was flying.

Was he really dating Eros? Him? Who’d come to this town a handful of months ago, feeling close to laying hands on himself?

It was a dark time and he did his best not to remember it. The weight of everyone’s expectations, the loneliness, the pointlessness of it all had struck him all at the same time. He’d woken up one morning with the odd thought that he could disappear one day and no one would care.

Oh, they would _say_ they cared, but would they really? To them it would just be a mystery. Where had the great Victor Nikiforov gone?

None of them really _knew_ him. Not really.

Yakov just cared about one thing: results. He was too busy getting irritated by whatever Victor had done this time to pay attention to his mental state.

No one had seen him as a regular human being with feelings. No one. Chris tried, but he had his boyfriend uppermost in his mind most of the time. Victor really understood him now.

He rang the doorbell with a smile.

Yuuri opened the door and gave him a surprised look. They hadn’t agreed to meet at this time, but Victor had come anyway.

“Hello, Yuuri! Can I come in? It’s your day off, right?”

“Yes,” Yuuri said with a nod. He was in a red velvet dress that ended above his knees and stockings that barely reached the bottom of the dress and only emphasized how perfect his knees were.

Victor tore his eyes away, all too aware that he’d been staring.

“I bought some food!” He said, raising one arm to demonstrate how many bags he was holding. “I thought I could cook us something interesting for dinner. What do you think?”

He stood out in the hallway, waiting for Yuuri’s invitation to come in.

“Yes. Sure. If you want to,” Yuuri said and stepped back. “Why don’t you come in?”

“Thank you.” Victor walked in, heading straight for the kitchen. “There’s this complicated dish I’ve had in mind for a while. It takes a lot of time to make, but I thought it might be fun.”

Yuuri closed the door and laughed. “I’ll change into something else, then.”

He wished he could convince Yuuri to keep the dress on, but he didn’t want it to be ruined. He turned and was, once again, caught by Yuuri’s appearance like a dear in the headlights of a car. “It really suits you,” Victor said and felt his face turn red.

“Then I’ll keep it on.” Yuuri stepped up to him and put a hand on Victor’s arm. “Kiss me.”

The bags of groceries tumbled to the floor and Victor took Yuuri’s face in his hands, bringing their lips together slowly. He felt Yuuri’s hands slide onto his back. He broke the kiss, only to swallow some air and kiss Yuuri again, but he caught that look in Yuuri’s eyes.

It was the same look as the day before.

Forgetting about the kiss completely, he pulled the performer into an embrace, feeling Yuuri press his face against his shoulder.

There was that silence again, full of the many things they could say.

“I want you to never stop performing, Yuuri,” Victor whispered into his ear.

Yuuri chuckled quietly. “I don’t think people will want to see me perform when I’m old and ugly.”

“You’ll never be old and ugly,” Victor told him.

“Victor…” Yuuri whispered, running his hands up Victor’s back. But before Victor could answer properly Yuuri’s mouth was pressed against his ear. “Victor…”

He felt his knees tremble.

What was he going to do?

Oh yes: dinner. Right.

Victor pulled away slowly. “I should get started on this, shouldn’t I?” He picked up his bags and went to the kitchen.

Yuuri followed, pausing in the doorway and leaning against it. Then he draped himself seductively over a chair and watched Victor cook with his sleeves rolled up and an apron tied on.

Victor hummed something under his breath as he cut up the ingredients and combined them, following the instructions on his phone. When he was close to finished, he tasted what he had so far offered Yuuri a bite.

Yuuri slipped off his chair, walked up to Victor and caught the fork with his mouth. He pulled away slowly and licked his lips, his eyes gleaming in the half-light of the kitchen.

“What do you think?” Victor asked, his voice trembling.

“Delicious,” Yuuri whispered.

“That’s a relief.” Victor turned back to the stove.

He felt Yuuri wrap his arms around him and then slide his hands over his chest. They stopped and a single finger traced out a line. His heart beat faster in his chest. His mouth felt dry and he wondered if there was something he should be saying.

“I… um… Have you thought about how you will move your things to St. Petersburg?” he asked just to have something to say.

“I’m leaving most of my things with a friend,” Yuuri told him.

Victor nodded. He’d never met any of Yuuri’s friends and wondered if this was a good topic for conversation. “I’m…” He swallowed. “The dinner is almost finished.”

“Hmm…” Yuuri was clinging on tightly now.

What could he do? He couldn’t push Yuuri away. What did other people do in a situation like his?

There was only one thing he could think of doing and that was to stay where he was.

“It smells delicious,” Yuuri whispered after a while.

Victor put his hands over Yuuri’s. “Do you want to have dinner now?”

“Will you feed me?”

“If you want me to,” Victor answered.

It was an evening like no other in his life: Eros sat in his lap while Victor fed him. They started with a fork, but Yuuri pulled it out of Victor’s hand and set it aside.

“Your hand will be just fine,” he whispered.

He wasn’t ready for this. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he would have Eros eating out of his hand and licking his fingers. He wasn’t ready for the hungry look in Yuuri’s eyes, or how, when his plate was empty and Victor’s fingers were still wet Yuuri took said fingers and slid them over his chest and down into his dress. He sat sideways across Victor’s lap, which only made Victor’s head spin more.

One strap of Yuuri’s dress slipped off. Victor pulled his hands away. Yuuri fiddled with Victor’s tie and pulled him into a kiss.

“I… uh… I will make us some dessert,” Victor whispered. Why was he whispering?

Yuuri shifted closer. “Leave the dessert to me,” he whispered back.

Victor blushed and waited to see what Yuuri would do next.

He slipped off Victor’s knees and stood in front of him. “I was practicing a new routine when you came. Do you want to see it?”

“Yes, please.”

Yuuri left to get his phone. He set it down on the counter as soon as his music started playing, closed his eyes and breathed out, sliding his hands down over his body. He swayed slowly to the tune, opening his eyes and fixing them on Victor. Then he stepped closer. He crossed the room step by careful step.

Victor watched, unable to tear his eyes away. Here was a new routine from Eros performed just for him and for the first time too!

Yuuri stopped when they were right next to each other. He slid one side of his dress up his thigh and ran his hand over the skin exposed on his inner thigh before lowering the dress and repeating the same with his other leg. He turned and for the first time that evening Victor was treated to the sight of the back of his dress. It dropped all the way down to his waist. Yuuri’s hands slid down to the hem of the dress and then slowly raised it as the music played louder.

Victor’s head was spinning. This wasn’t somewhere on a stage. This wasn’t somewhere someone else could see them. This was just for him. And Yuuri wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Would he turn back around?

He raised his eyes and saw that Yuuri was watching his reaction over his shoulder.

Victor blushed deeper.

Yuuri nodded at him and Victor’s eyes dropped to his lap.

At some point during dinner Yuuri had slipped his underwear off and left it behind when he got up.

Yuuri dropped the dress back in its place and turned around.

“Uh… um…” He couldn’t form a single coherent word, so he just held out the underwear, not really sure if he was telling Yuuri to take it back, or put it on, or what.

“Keep it,” Yuuri said and slipped into the other chair. “What do you think of my new routine?” he asked, reclining in his seat and sliding his legs forward as if to show them off to Victor.

He didn’t hear the question. All he heard was Yuuri’s tone and again he had the feeling that he’d done something wrong. _Please don’t be upset with me, Yuuri. You know I’m no good at this._

He had to make up for his blunder somehow. He got up, walked around the table and sat down on the floor at Yuuri’s feet.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked.

“No, I’m not.”

He reached out and put his hands carefully over Yuuri’s knees. “You have beautiful thighs,” he whispered and then blushed as he realized what he’d said.

There was a smile on Yuuri’s face that made Victor’s heart hammer right against his ribs, as if it wanted to get out. He took Victor’s hand and slid it over his inner thigh, letting out a soft gasp.

“Undress me,” he whispered.

Victor’s phone rang.

He ignored it in favour of kissing Yuuri’s knees.

It kept ringing even when Victor gathered enough courage to pull one stocking off Yuuri and on it rang while he pulled off the second one.

“Victor…” Yuuri whispered as Victor paused uncertainly.

He raised his eyes.

Still the phone rang.

“Answer it,” Yuuri whispered. “I don’t want you to miss an important phone call because of me.”

Victor pulled away and answered his phone with a sigh.

It was Yakov and he immediately regretted answering. Was it too late to hang up and pretend his phone dropped the call by accident?

“Victor!” Yakov’s voice boomed loud and clear in Yuuri’s kitchen.

Too late now.

He left the kitchen, wishing to spare Yuuri this conversation.

 

Yuuri clung to his chair, struggling to catch his breath. Why was he suddenly reacting to Victor’s actions as if it was his first time?

He could still remember his first time. It hadn’t been pleasant at all and he’d never seen that man since. He suppressed that memory and thought of Victor instead.

The man who'd called Victor was yelling loud enough for Yuuri to hear every word.

“What is all this I hear about a man you’re in love with, Victor?”

“Yakov,” Victor replied in pacifying tones, “there’s no need to get so worked up: I’m coming home soon.”

“You’re a selfish man, Victor. You only ever do what you want without ever thinking of others!”

“Listen, Yakov, I can’t talk right now –”

He was getting cold in his chair. Cold and angry at Victor’s caller.

Who thought they had a right to yell at Victor and call him selfish? Victor was the kindest man Yuuri had ever met!

The caller calmed down enough for his half of the conversation to have become inaudible.

This was the second time he called when Victor was with Yuuri. Who was that man and why was he always angry with Victor? Was he Victor’s father?

Victor returned several minutes later with a frown on his face.

It didn’t matter who that man was. He’d completely ruined their evening together.

“It’s getting late,” Yuuri said. “You should go home. Don’t you usually get up early in the morning?”

“Yes…” Victor took Yuuri’s hand and kissed it. “I’m sorry.”

Yuuri picked his thong up from the table and tucked it into Victor’s pocket. “Take it.”

“I…”

“You can return it at the club tomorrow.” He smiled. “You’ll be there for my second last performance, won’t you?”

“Second last performance _here_ ,” Victor corrected him.

“Yes, of course.” How did Victor do it? How did he manage to get Yuuri to keep falling deeper and deeper in love with him?

He’d never felt this way before.

He caught Victor in another kiss. “Say it again,” he whispered.

He didn’t need to clarify what “it” was: Victor understood him perfectly.

“I love you,” Victor closed his eyes, “and I want you to come live with me.”

Security. That was what Victor gave him. That was the one thing no one else could ever give him. At least, not anyone who’d been in his life.

“I love you,” Yuuri answered, “and I will be very happy to come live with you.”

Victor kissed him again. “I’m honoured.”

He left and, as always, Yuuri ran to the balcony to see him off.

Victor waved from the street below and walked away.

“I love you,” Yuuri whispered into the night, “and I want to make love to you.”

 

The next time Yuuri saw Victor was right before his second last performance. He was just starting to get ready to go out on stage when Victor came in, a big bouquet of roses in his arms. He handed them to Yuuri and then pulled Yuuri’s thong out of his pocket.

Yuuri, who’d been standing in front of his mirror in his dressing gown, put the roses into a vase and straightened up to let his dressing gown slide off his shoulders and onto the floor to show Victor that, apart from his lace camisole, he wasn’t wearing anything else.

Victor blushed and looked away.

“Can you put it on me?”

Victor dropped to his knees in front of Yuuri and dressed him.

When was the last time Yuuri had done this? Had he ever done this? Who, among the various boyfriends he’d had over the years, would’ve pulled his underwear on with such reverence, without making a single innuendo, fingers trailing up over his skin so carefully as if it was fragile?

Yuuri let out a long sigh.

Very briefly Victor’s face was mere inches away from his stomach. And then he pulled his hands away, but Yuuri refused to let him off the hook so easily. He leaned down and put his hands on Victor’s shoulders and gave him a thank you kiss.

He sat down in his chair. “Can you help me with my stockings too?”

Afterwards he often thought back to that evening before he found out who Victor was, before he knew what it meant to have _Victor Nikiforov_ on his knees in front of him.

Victor kissed his foot before pulling the stocking over Yuuri’s leg. As his hands reached Yuuri’s thigh, Yuuri rested his leg on Victor’s shoulder, still all too blissfully unaware _whose_ shoulder it was.

With a smile Victor leaned over and kissed Yuuri’s thigh. Yuuri reclined in his chair with his eyes closed and moaned as if Victor had done more than plant an innocent kiss on his skin.

They were getting carried away and he wasn’t sure how exactly both his legs ended up draped over Victor’s shoulders.

“Yuuri –” Victor began.

“Sh! Let me have this moment.” He gave another moan. “Don’t let go of me just yet, please.”

Victor’s hands rested on a thigh each. “A-am I doing the right thing?” he asked shyly.

“Very right…” Yuuri breathed out.

And then he heard footsteps coming down the hall and remembered where he was. But it was too late for him to do anything.

The door opened and another dancer came in. “Yuuri, they – oh! Sorry!” She stepped back and closed the door.

Yuuri pulled away from Victor with a resigned sigh. Downstairs there was an audience waiting for him.

“I’m so sorry!” Victor exclaimed, sounding and looking very flustered.

The apology surprised him. “Why? There’s nothing to feel sorry about. She’s walked in on me with someone else before.” He regretted those words as soon as he uttered them.

Victor was moving away with an odd expression on his face.

Yuuri slipped off the chair down towards Victor and caught him with both hands. “You’re perfect,” he whispered. “Has anyone ever told you that?” He leaned close until their lips were mere centimetres apart. “You’re perfect and I want you.”

“D-don’t you need to perform soon?” Victor asked, still extremely flustered.

“Yes, but when I’m done I’m going to have sex with you.” He released Victor and rose to his feet, trailing a finger up Victor’s neck all the way to his chin. “How does that sound?”

Victor stared up at him. “A-are you sure?”

“Of course I am.” He pulled Victor up to his feet and dusted off his knees. “Will you watch me perform tonight?”

“Yes, of course!”

 

Victor sat in his usual spot, waiting for the lights to dim to signal that the show was about to start. His heart was still beating like mad in his chest.

He covered his face with his hands. _Oh, God,_ he suddenly thought, _I can’t believe I had my head between the thighs of the sexiest man alive and I had no idea what to do next! If Chris ever finds out, I’ll never hear the end of it. I’m Victor Nikiforov! Why don’t I know what to do with a half-naked boy in front of me?_

The lights dimmed and he lowered his hands.

A single spotlight illuminated the stage where Eros lounged on a couch in a corset, a thong and a pair of stiletto heels. He sang in a seductive half-whisper, swinging one leg slightly.

“ _Driver roll up the partition please_ ,” he sang slowly. “ _I don’t need you seeing Eros on his knees. Took 45 minutes to get all dressed up. We ain’t even gonna make it to this club_.”

As he sang hands reached over the couch from all sides and slid over his arms and legs. Still Eros sang on, as if they weren’t there.

The hands pulled away. Eros sat up on the couch and crossed his legs. He continued to sing as he slowly uncrossed his legs and then spread them, sliding his hands towards his knees. He took his time rising to his feet and waited with one hand on his hip and one eyebrow raised for more dancers to join him. Two of them carried the sofa off the stage.

Together they danced a slow sensual dance, running their hands over their bodies. Eros turned on the stage and Victor saw that while from the front it looked like Eros was wearing a leather corset, it turned out that on the sides and the back the leather gave way to black lace that dropped down over his mostly bare buttocks.

“ _Handprints and good grips all on my ass. Private show with the music blasting_.” He stood sideways to the audience, bending his knees and sliding his hands where Victor’s had been, moving the strap down a couple of centimeters.

Victor blushed deeper at the memory of sliding Yuuri’s underwear on. Around him the audience whistled and encouraged Eros on. Eros blew him a kiss, raised his hands and untied his corset.

“ _Take all of me. I just wanna be the boy you like_ ,” Eros sang on as he walked to the front of the stage, held out the corset and dropped it onto Victor’s table.

Victor clung to the table, barely able to breathe. Still Eros danced and sang on, oblivious to what Victor was going through. He felt as if a hand gripped him and refused to let go.

“ _The kind of boy you like is right here with me_ ,” Eros sang out as the music ended.

There was a brief pause as the audience held its breath and the band sat still. Everyone waited for Eros to do something else.

He licked his lips, his eyes on Victor and repeated the last line. “ _The kind of boy you like is right here with me_.”

 

Yuuri was ready for Victor when he came in. As soon as he stepped in through the doorway, Yuuri pulled him in, closed the door and caught him against it.

“Are you ready?” the performer breathed into his ear, his hands sliding down over Victor’s chest.

“Yuuri, I don’t think this is the right place…” Victor stammered out.

Yuuri stepped back and prepared to pull off the only thing he was still wearing when the meaning of Victor’s words sank in.

He straightened up. “You’re right.” He turned away. “I’m going to get dressed and we’ll go back to my place.”

He pretended he couldn’t see the way Victor was leaning against the door as he got dressed. But when he finished and it became obvious that Victor hadn’t moved an inch the whole time he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Ready?” Yuuri asked, pulling Victor away from the door.

“I… um…” Victor held up Yuuri’s corset that he’d been clutching tightly in his hand all this time.

“Thank you,” Yuuri whispered, taking the corset and tossing it onto his bed.

Tomorrow he would pack all his work clothes away and make sure that he didn’t leave anything behind in his room, but right now he had other things to think about.

Like how pleasant it was to walk hand in hand with Victor as the anticipation built up in his stomach. He kept throwing looks at Victor who barely said two words as soon as they stepped outside.

The old ladies were there on their bench again, giving Yuuri triumphant looks.

He turned around and pulled Victor into a kiss, making full use of his tongue this time, not holding back and hoping like mad that Victor wouldn’t try to pull away and apologize for their inappropriate behaviour.

But Victor only pulled him closer.

Once he felt he’d made his point, Yuuri released him and turned around.

The old ladies gave them dirty looks, accompanied by dirty words, but Yuuri didn’t care. He grabbed Victor’s hand and pulled him along.

Up they went to Yuuri’s apartment only stopping to let Yuuri unlock the door.

They walked in and Yuuri realized he was still waiting for Victor to push him against the wall and start something, but Victor merely hovered nearby.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. “Well, you already know that, but I’m not sure what the proper way to behave is. Do I start by asking if you want to have sex with me?”

Yuuri opened his mouth to laugh or maybe tease Victor about this and stopped. “Yes,” he said in a tone of voice that was completely serious.

Victor dropped onto one knee. “Would you like to have sex with me?”

Yuuri stared in disbelief. “Yes,” he finally answered. “What- what about you, Victor?”

Victor planted a kiss on Yuuri’s hand. “I would.” He stood up. “U-uh… Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Yuuri did his best to keep the surprise from his face. “No, that was… perfect,” he breathed out.

 _Perfect people don’t exist_ , Yuuri thought miserably. He pushed the thought aside.

“What do I do now?” Victor asked.

Yuuri led him into the bedroom. “Do you want to undress me or should I do that myself?”

“I don’t know. Which would you prefer?”

It came instinctively and he did it without thinking. Yuuri unbuttoned his coat and let it fall on the floor. Next he pulled his sweater off. He watched Victor blush, but keep his eyes on Yuuri. Yuuri was so caught up in the moment, he leaned forward and slid a hand over Victor’s cheek. He pulled away slowly and undid his pants, lowering them slowly and waiting for Victor to reach for him.

 _He’s used to watching me do this,_ Yuuri suddenly realized. _He’s used to the thought that he can watch, but he can’t touch…_

“You can touch me any time you like,” Yuuri said.

“Am I supposed to?”

Instead of an answer, Yuuri sat him down on the bed, spread his legs and stood between them.

“Take my underwear off,” he requested and closed his eyes.

It felt as good as the first time, the only difference being the direction Victor’s hands moved in. As Victor’s fingertips slid over his skin he let out a sigh. Fully naked now, Yuuri wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck and kissed him. Victor put his hands over Yuuri’s back and responded. They didn’t let each other go until they ran out of breath.

“I love you,” Victor whispered, his hands still on Yuuri’s back.

Yuuri, who was used to all kinds of grips, found a new, gentle one he’d never known before. He blushed. “R-really, Victor, I –”

“I hope I can satisfy you,” Victor went on. “I will do my best, but I apologize for getting everything wrong.”

Not knowing what to say to that, Yuuri started to undress Victor.

“There’s something I should tell you before you go on,” Victor said, taking one of Yuuri’s hands into his own. “But I don’t want this to change anything between us.”

Yuuri froze. “What is it?” _Here it comes. Here comes the big flaw. I knew he was too good to be true!_

“It’s a little…” Victor hesitated. He lowered his eyes, gave a small nod and then looked back up into Yuuri’s face. “I haven’t told you everything about myself. You see, I was worried that you’d treat me differently, if you knew, because I like that you treat me like… well, an equal, I suppose, but that’s not really the right word.”

 _Oh my god! He_ is _ill isn’t he? That would explain everything. And, of course, I manage to find someone perfect and he’s about to die._ The old fear was back.

Victor took in the fear that must have showed itself on Yuuri’s face. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. I just feel like you won’t believe me. God, this is a little awkward isn’t it?” Victor chuckled. “I’m famous, Yuuri.”

“Oh.” Yuuri felt himself relax. He released the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. “Really?” He had no idea what to say to that.

“Yes, but not _that_ famous. I’m not the richest man on Earth, or a big-name actor, or something. To be honest, I was a little surprised you hadn’t recognized me at first. I guess,” he laughed nervously, “I guess I just got used to being recognized all the time and was sort of spoiled by it. But I shouldn’t expect you to recognize me.”

Not knowing what to say to that, Yuuri helped him undress. He pulled Victor’s underwear off and Victor caught his hands again.

“Thank you. I don’t want you to treat me differently just because I’m famous, just think of me as you always have.” He chuckled. “I guess I should’ve told you later, but it felt dishonest somehow.”

Yuuri stood over Victor and stared down at him. Victor Nikiforov, famous and completely clueless about relationships. He could see why Victor hesitated to admit it. Anyone else in Yuuri’s place would’ve probably laughed themselves silly, but Yuuri merely found it endearing even if it was a little surprising.

Victor was handsome. Yuuri could really appreciate that now. Broad-shouldered, muscular, but not in a way that body builders were, more in a way he would’ve expected an athlete to be. He could model. Maybe he did. Well it didn’t really matter.

“I want to show you what I do someday,” Victor admitted and grinned. “Will you wait until I’m ready?”

Yuuri laughed. “Sure, why not? So, are you rich?” he asked jokingly.

“You save up a lot when you live on your own and you barely have time to spend money even on yourself.” Victor gave a sad sigh, but his face split into a smile again. “But I enjoy spending it on you. I love getting you gifts.”

Yuuri lowered himself onto his knees. He was still between Victor’s legs, one hand resting on each. “I don’t want you to feel embarrassed of anything,” Yuuri said quietly. “Make any noise you like.” He slid his hands over Victor’s thighs with a playful smile. “I won’t judge.”

“Wh-what about the neighbours?” Victor asked.

 _Oh, they’re used to hearing all kinds of noises by now,_ Yuuri thought. _That’s partially responsible for my wonderful reputation. And to hell with all of them, anyway!_ “They won’t be bothered by it, don’t worry,” Yuuri lied.

“It’s a little embarrassing,” Victor went on, “that I don’t know what to do at all. Everyone around me has been in a relationship, I never really cared about it before, but…” He gasped. “…it gets… it gets to you.” He kept gasping for air. “And… And they’re…ah! …intimidated by… ah! … Yuuri!” He put his hands on the bed, resting his weight against them.

Yuuri pulled away and smiled. Then he rose to his feet. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He returned not long after, sat down on the bed next to Victor and smiled. “I only got one, but you probably want me to start anyway.”

Victor watched him open-mouthed.

Yuuri pushed him down onto the bed gently, crawling over Victor and kissing him. He sat up with a smile. Still there was that look of awe on Victor’s face. He pretended that he didn’t see it.

Instead he focused on admiring Victor, running his hands over his chest. All this time he’d spent with Victor he saw a tall, thin man in an expensive suit, taking him for a businessman who was a little shy and a little naïve, but now he saw a different man. Someone with a hidden strength.

And someone who was very alone.

He raised his hand to his mouth and licked his fingers, watching Victor’s reaction.

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered.

“Are you ready for the best night of your life?” he asked playfully. He could see the answer in Victor’s face even if the man struggled to get a single word out.

Yuuri lowered his head and kissed his chest. God! Victor was like a coiled spring! _I don’t think I’ve ever dated anyone with a body like yours! You must be really strong too!_ “I want you to carry me in your arms someday.”

“I will. I promise.”

He hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but he acted as if it hadn’t been a slip of the tongue and kept working his way up to Victor’s neck and then further up to his face. He paused with his face right over Victor’s and smiled down at him.

“I will…” Victor repeated. “I will carry you anywhere you like.”

Yuuri felt the blood rush to his face.

“Even all the way from here to St. Petersburg, if you want me to,” Victor added.

He laughed. “Won’t you get tired?”

“If I’m carrying you, I will never be tired.”

It was really sappy, but, “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” Yuuri admitted.

He sat up and reached out for the bottle he’d left at the bedside table.

“Um… What… what is that?”

Yuuri smiled at him. “I think I’d rather spare you the lecture. Let’s just say it’s a way of making sure we can both walk comfortably tomorrow morning.”

Victor’s face was full of alarm. “I didn’t realize…”

“Hasn’t anyone ever talked to you about sex?”

“No,” he looked away. “I never really had… I mean I wasn’t there at school when they talked about it.”

Yuuri took his face in his hands and turned it to look into his eyes. “Then it’s lucky you’re with me.”

 

When Yuuri ran his hands over him he felt like he’d never felt before. Overwhelmed was one word for it, but he had no idea how else to describe it. Yuuri was playful and gentle with him, covering his skin with hundreds of kisses, running his fingers over his most sensitive areas. At some point Yuuri turned him over and moved down over his spine.

He paused for a moment and Victor wondered if he was hesitating for some reason.

“I just realized,” Yuuri whispered into his ear, “you don’t know what to expect, do you?”

Why was he saying it now? “I trust you,” Victor told him.

He felt Yuuri slide his hands over him and heard him whisper something.

And then Yuuri took him.

They were right when they said they were willing to die for a night with Eros. This had baffled him when he’d first heard it, but now he understood them all too well. Every single time Yuuri touched him Victor let out a gasp. Even Yuuri trailing his fingertips over Victor’s body drew this response from him.

He turned Victor over onto his back again and Victor felt completely overwhelmed.

There was Eros’s face, red and flushed, eyes burning more than they ever did on stage. And Victor gasped out Yuuri’s name.

Dear Yuuri, who could be so different, but was always so beautiful…

When Yuuri finished and dropped onto the pillow next to him Victor turned over onto his side so they could face each other.

“I understand them now,” he whispered.

“Who?”

“All those people who are prepared to be with you no matter what the price. That was incredible!”

Yuuri smiled. “I told you I was good the first time we met, remember?”

Victor embraced him as his heart hammered in his chest and felt Yuuri’s arms circle around him. “I remember.”

“Stay with me,” Yuuri whispered. “If you need to leave early, that’s fine, just… sleep with me.”

“Okay,” Victor whispered back.

 

Phichit hadn’t seen Yuuri perform for several months, but his eyes were drawn somewhere other than the stage this time (even if Yuuri had just stripped off his red velvet dress to reveal the mesh body suit he had on underneath it). A young man sat in the front seat of honour. Phichit had always called it the boyfriend seat: he knew all about the arrangement at the club that let Yuuri reserve it for anyone he liked. And the young man sitting there now could only be one person. That had to be Victor.

But why did he look so familiar? Where had Phichit seen him before?

From where he sat he could only see the man’s profile and it didn’t really help solve the mystery. He urged Yuuri to finish faster so he could pull out his phone and see if the Internet had the answer.

But Yuuri took his time. He sang a long goodbye, flirting with the audience.

They really loved him here. When news got around that this was Yuuri’s last performance in this city everyone in the area came to see him off. Phichit himself had come for the same reason. Next to him his boyfriend squeezed his hand.

“He’s really good, isn’t he?” he whispered to Phichit.

Phichit nodded. “That’s our Yuuri. I just hope he finds a good club in St. Petersburg.”

The performance ended to cries of “More!” and “Don’t leave, Yuuri!”. Victor got up and presented Yuuri with a bouquet and more people showered him with flowers.

He bowed and stepped up to the microphone to give a farewell speech.

Phichit watched Victor curiously. He pushed the question of his identity out of his mind for the moment and wondered what sort of boyfriend he was. Would Yuuri really be happy by his side?

And then the stage was empty and the room filled with the sound of dozens of individual conversations.

“Let’s go,” Phichit said, rising to his feet. “Let’s talk to them.”

That was when it hit him. He remembered where he’d seen those soft blue eyes and that tall figure. “Oh my god!” he exclaimed and dropped back into his chair.

“What is it?” his boyfriend asked. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just…” Phichit chuckled. “Well, well, isn’t that funny? I don’t think Yuuri knows who he’s dating! I wonder what he’ll do when he finds out.”

 

But Yuuri didn’t find out until the next day when Phichit dropped by to wish him good luck in his new life.

Yuuri’s apartment was full of boxes. Phichit walked around them carefully before finding Yuuri making tea in the kitchen.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Almost. I got thirsty and decided to have a cup before I go. Do you want some?” Yuuri held out an empty cup.

“Sure.”

He waited for Yuuri to pour him a cup and then sit down before breaking the news to him.

“Yuuri, do you know who you’re dating?” he asked, throwing a look at Yuuri as he stirred sugar into his tea.

“Yes: Victor Nikiforov,” Yuuri answered in a puzzled tone of voice. Well, that confirmed the name even if Phichit didn’t need a confirmation anymore.

“Duh, but do you know _who_ he is?” He didn’t. It was _so obvious_ that he didn’t, but Phichit asked to make sure.

“Is he a rich businessman, or something? I always assumed he was.” Yuuri asked, raising his cup to his mouth.

“You’ll like this,” Phichit told him and then waited for Yuuri to put his cup down on the table before presenting him with the Wikipedia page on Victor Nikiforov. “He’s the living legend of figure skating! Isn’t that amazing?”

The blank look on Yuuri’s face told Phichit that the words didn’t meant anything to him. Of course, they didn’t! Unlike Phichit, Yuuri didn’t care much for figure skating.

He nodded at the article about Victor. “He’s beaten the world record 12 times, he’s a five-time world champion, not to mention a whole bunch of other titles… He’s the top figure skater in the world and incredibly famous among athletes and sports fans. I think he’s the national hero in Russia too.”

Yuuri raised his eyes from the article and stared at Phichit, putting his hands over his mouth. “Oh God! What is he doing with _me_?”

“I don’t know, Yuuri, what _are_ you doing with the living legend?” Phichit asked mischievously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features a song someone requested a long time ago on Tumblr. (Sorry it took so long to get to it!) It's [Partition by Beyonce](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXJ-QVpWbGg).  
> When this fic ends I will post a link to a Tumblr post with summaries and previews of the ideas I have for future fics so that you can vote for the idea or ideas that you like most, because I have almost 10 ideas for different fics and I honestly can't decide which one to post next. I'm still naively hoping that I'll manage to write all of them eventually.
> 
> Also while writing this chapter I ran into a website with good references for anyone who wants to draw lingerie (for all of your Yuuri in lingerie drawing needs), but since the website is an online store, I don’t know if I can stick a link to it here. If you want a link, message me on Tumblr and I’ll give it to you. Unless you think it’s okay to put it here?


	13. Victor Nikiforov’s Boyfriend

_It was the end of another skating season. Like before, he came home with more gold medals and a heavy heart. He was so tired. Tired and fed up. How many more times would the press corner him after a victory and attack him with questions? How many more times will they try to spread malicious rumours?_

_“Are you retiring? Is this it?”_

_“How will you surprise your fans next season?”_

_He wanted to turn their questions around and ask how he could get them to stop asking questions._

_“Victor Nikiforov isn’t the same,” some said, thinking he couldn’t hear them._

_“He’s lost his inspiration,” others would agree with a nod._

_“He’s lost his touch,” a third group would argue._

_He dropped onto his couch in his empty apartment and lowered his heavy head onto his hands. Makkachin came up to him and put his head on Victor’s knee._

_What was it all for? he wondered. What was the point?_

_He could work hard, put together a new routine, go out on the ice and skate it, but for what? So he’d go out there and win a sixth, seventh, maybe even an eighth gold in World’s. So what? It didn’t make him feel any better._

_What did he want? That was the big question and one he didn’t know the answer to._

I want it to end already, _he suddenly realized._

_His phone rang. He let it go on ringing._

_On the sixth ring he gave a heavy sigh and answered it._

_“Victor!” It was Chris. How he was so enthusiastic when the whole world was so awful was beyond Victor’s understanding._

_He went on in that cheery tone of his, telling Victor he had to come visit him, describing a summer vacation full of fun. At some point Victor started to seriously suspect that Chris was just reading out the Switzerland travel brochure._

_Victor sighed and prepared to argue, only to realize that he was too tired to bother. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. Maybe his friend would distract him for a while._

Two weeks, _he told himself,_ I’ll give him two weeks and if I still feel like this, then…

_He wasn’t sure if he wanted to finish that thought._

_“Alright,” he agreed. “I’ll come.”_

 

It was late in the evening when they returned to the apartment. The sun had set several hours ago. The door swung open and a hand reached for the light switch, but another hand caught it.

“Don’t,” a voice whispered. “Let’s stay in the dark.”

There was a chuckle and the sound of a kiss. Someone was pushed against the wall as more kisses were exchanged.

“I think… I think I prefer your dinners, Victor,” Yuuri whispered between kisses.

“Thank you,” Victor whispered.

Yuuri’s fingers slipped over Victor’s shirt, undoing the buttons one at a time as he whispered Victor’s name into his ear over and over again.

Victor’s shirt was tossed aside as they felt their way around in the dark.

“That’s me…” Victor whispered.

“I know.” He could imagine the smile on Yuuri’s face as he said those words.

There were streetlights just outside the window and they cast long stripes of shadows on the wall. Between the shadows were squares of light with an orange hue. They did nothing to make it easier to see anything in the room.

Yuuri shifted forward, bringing one leg between Victor’s.

They’d gone on a date, eating dinner in a fancy restaurant.

_Yuuri was in a black dress that was nothing more than a front and a back laced up to each other on both sides, leaving said sides just a little bit exposed. Victor was in his usual pinstripe suit._

_They held hands across the table as they talked, as if unable to break physical contact even for a second. There was a smile on each of their faces. When they weren’t speaking it was there and even when they spoke a hint of it remained._

_Yuuri was no longer baffled by anything Victor did. He’d gotten used to it. This was the way things were now. This was how they were always meant to be._

_And so he told Victor about his interview that day and laughed with him as he recounted how his audience had reacted to one of his routines._

 

Yuuri’s hands were on Victor’s shoulders as he trailed kisses up his neck. “Darling,” he whispered and felt Victor shudder, “when will I get to see what you do?”

“T-tomorrow,” Victor stammered out. “Sorry you have to wait so long…”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Yuuri reassured him, sliding his hands up to Victor’s face. “I can wait.”

They moved along the wall, doing their best to avoid most of the furniture in the room.

There was the couch at last. They walked into the back of it almost at the same time, but at least now they could see each other a little.

He’d learned to ask Victor to help him undress. When Yuuri stripped Victor would sit down and watch, forgetting this was his boyfriend and remembering only the performer.

But before Victor could get tangled in untying the dress, Yuuri slid his hands under the skirt and closed his eyes as Victor’s fingers slipped around his underwear, trying to grab a hold of it. The dress came next. Unlacing was hard and Yuuri giggled as Victor got more and more frustrated with the dress.

“Should I turn the light on?” he offered.

“No. I almost have it… Oh come on!” Victor sighed and kept going.

“Ah!” he exclaimed after a while. “There we go!” He pulled the dress off and leaned forward to kiss Yuuri’s chest.

Yuuri’s fingers slipped into Victor’s hair. Victor worked his way up to Yuuri’s mouth, picking him up to sit him down on the back of the couch. Now Yuuri worried about losing his balance and falling off. He clung on tightly to Victor’s shoulders before realizing the he may be hurting Victor and letting go.

“Sorry,” he said, sliding his hands onto Victor’s chest, all while pressing their foreheads together.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Victor reassured him.

Yuuri slipped off the back of the couch and dropped down to his knees in front of Victor. He slid his hands up the skater’s thighs and onto his belt as he looked up into his face. For a while he said nothing and then he whispered, “Will you take me?”

Victor’s face was red. “Yes,” he whispered.

With quick, practiced movements, Yuuri undressed him and then rose to his feet. He walked around the couch, trailing a hand around it, as if it was just another one of his routines. He kept his eyes on Victor and the skater was unable to break eye contact with him. He followed Yuuri around the couch and watched Yuuri lie down onto it, beckoning Victor over with his finger.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he admitted as Victor climbed over him.

Victor blushed. “Really? And not… um… the other way around?”

“No.”

Yuuri watched Victor hesitate and then feel embarrassed about hesitating. His own heart was beating fast.

Victor’s expression alternated between embarrassment and love before settling for love after all. He held Yuuri’s thighs gently with both hands, as if afraid to hurt him. Their eyes were locked on each other and Yuuri promised himself to not break eye contact.

He gasped as Victor pushed, reclining his head and then all he could see was the ceiling of Victor’s apartment.

“Victor…” he moaned in the darkness. “Victor…” His voice was louder now.

“Yuuri…” he heard in return.

He clung on to the sofa and begged for more.

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered after a while. “I’m not… I…” He pulled away and watched Yuuri try to catch his breath.

“Come here,” Yuuri breathed out, giving Victor a look that drew him in and reaching out with his hands.

Victor leaned over him and Yuuri pulled him down, wrapping his arms around Victor. “Let’s sleep right here,” he whispered, “on the couch.”

 

Morning came. Grey and cold, but it came.

His face was buried in Yuuri’s chest, while his hands rested under his shoulder blades. He tried to move and realized that Yuuri’s legs were wrapped tightly around him. They were crossed over Victor’s backside.

A soft sigh escaped Yuuri’s lips and Victor raised his head to see that he was awake at last.

“Good morning!” he exclaimed and his voice shook a little as soon as he saw the expression on Yuuri’s face.

“Good morning,” Yuuri whispered, trailing his fingers up Victor’s back. “Today’s the day.”

Victor still hadn’t told him what it was he did. He wondered what Yuuri thought about that. Was he angry with Victor?

“It is,” he said, having nothing better to say.

They untangled themselves from each other and Victor sat up. “I’m… um… I’m a figure skater,” he finally said.

Yuuri chuckled quietly. “Any good?”

“The best, actually!” Victor exclaimed proudly.

Yuuri sat up and took Victor’s hands in his own. “Will you show me?”

“The Grand Prix Final is today.” He saw the look on Yuuri’s face and explained about figure skating competitions. “Will you come to cheer for me?” he concluded with a question on his own.

“I will be glad to,” Yuuri said before slipping off the sofa and leaving the room to get dressed.

 

“What’s that you got there?” Chris asked.

Victor raised his eyes from his phone. Instead of getting mentally ready for the upcoming competition he was looking at photos.

He grinned. “Playboy magazine asked to take more pictures of Yuuri and he sent me some of them.”

There were four photos this time and they’d all come with the single caption “to inspire you”.

One showed Yuuri by a window in a really long white crochet shirt with little red roses sewn into the loose pattern. The light fell on his face, making it look like it was glowing. There was a soft smile on his lips.

The second had Yuuri in the same outfit, sitting in the middle of the window sill, his hands on the window frame and the same smile on his face.

As soon as Victor looked at the third and fourth photos he closed them, unable to look at them for longer than five seconds.

But still it was enough to see that in one of them Yuuri sat with a cherry between his parted lips and an odd look on his face. The other one was nearly identical, except that the cherry was replaced by one of the pearls in a string of them that went around his neck. He didn’t see the rest of those photos, but he had a strong suspicion that Yuuri wasn’t wearing anything in either of them. For some reason he was too terrified to check.

The photos were conjuring other images in his mind and making him feel as if Yuuri was there in person.

Chris was looking over his shoulder at the first one now. “Playboy magazine?” he asked. He didn’t sound convinced.

Victor remained silent.

“How many photos like this do you have?” Chris asked.

He listed them off aloud, without thinking, realizing as he did so that he had all of them committed to memory and watched Chris’s smile get wider.

“Victor,” Chris said once he got to the end of the list, “do you ever think that these photos were taken just for you?”

“Just for…” Victor stared at Chris and then looked back at his phone. “You mean…?”

Chris chuckled. “Interesting thought, isn’t it?” He clapped his friend on his back and walked away.

_These photos were just for me?_

He flicked through them, stopping on the one with the cherry in Yuuri’s mouth.

_Why didn’t he just say so?_

 

Yuuri had never attended sports competitions before (with the exception of one or two dance competitions). He wasn’t ready for the mix of nervousness and excitement that filled him as each skater went out on the ice. He cheered each of them on with all of his heart. It was incredible what they did. He could never hope to do half as much, he was sure. He applauded with the audience when someone landed perfectly and joined in the disappointment when they flubbed an element.

Last on the ice was Victor himself and by the time it was his turn Yuuri was getting more butterflies in his stomach than he’d ever had in his life. It was enough to make him feel ill.

There Victor was – out in the middle of the ice and it was obvious how much the audience loved him. Of course they did.

He was all in black with red details all over his chest and back. He stood with his head lowered and his eyes closed. Yuuri smiled; he’d done the same before a performance himself to get into the mood.

Music began to play and Yuuri watched with increasing astonishment.

Of course Victor was legendary! Maybe seeing an innocent man in his club, it was a little bit difficult to believe, but there was no doubt in Yuuri’s mind about it now. Not when he jumped, spun around four times at incredible speed and landed with his arms spread out. And he didn’t stop there: he kept going.

And it was all accompanied by that song Victor had been listening to over the past few weeks.

_Comes a rainstorm, get your rubbers on your feet._

_Comes a snowstorm, you can get a little heat._

_Comes love, nothing can be done._

Victor skated as close to Yuuri as the ice let him, winked and went into a graceful spin with his arm raised over his head.

_Don’t try hiding cause there isn’t any use_

_You start sliding when your heart turns on the juice_

He slid his hands over his body and Yuuri blushed as he recognized the gesture.

_Oh god!_

Yuuri raised his hands to his face, both terrified to see what he would do next and unable to stop watching.

Before Yuuri went out in front of an audience he rehearsed his routine, working hard to get it just right, knowing all too well what really got people excited. He’d never felt embarrassed of anything he’d done, but now he wished he could take it all back if it meant that Victor wouldn’t be out there making a fool of himself at an important event like this.

_Victor! Who told you it was a good idea to skate one of my routines? What will they think?_

But, of course, Victor had no idea what was going through Yuuri’s mind. Instead of stopping, he jumped again, spun around with his hands clasped to his chest and landed with a happy smile. He blew Yuuri a kiss and kept going.

The cheers were deafening.

They loved him. They really, really loved him, no matter what he did.

 _Oh god,_ Yuuri thought, _is this_ really _the same person that spent all of last night between my thighs? What is he doing with me?_

_Comes love, nothing can be done._

This was who Victor was. He was in his element out on the ice, completely at ease and really letting himself go. And he was beautiful. If Yuuri hadn’t been in love with him before, he would’ve fallen in love with him then.

He imitated Yuuri very well, like a person who watched something many times, memorized it and then repeated it perfectly. And yet…

Yuuri smiled. _I think there’s something I can still teach you._

_That’s all brother, if you’ve ever been in love,_

_That’s all, brother, you know what I'm speaking of._

After another spin and a final jump Victor ended with his arms arched towards Yuuri as the audience gave a deafening roar of joy.

Tears flowed down Yuuri’s cheeks, but he didn’t bother wiping them off.

“Yuuri!” Victor called, skating to the exit from the ice.

And he ran. He darted down the aisle, not caring what it would look like or what people would think. He ran on, not stopping until he was safely in Victor’s embrace.

“I dedicate it to you,” Victor whispered into his ear. “Do you like it?”

“Yes!” How could he even ask a question like that?

“Vitya!” someone shouted, but Victor ignored them.

“What an incredible performance by Victor Nikiforov! And the judges are about to announce their scores!” the commentator’s voice boomed loudly over the speakers and it seemed to Yuuri that even he was getting emotional over Victor’s skate.

Yuuri clung on tighter as his heart beat faster. Then his eyes fell on Victor’s costume. Now that he was really close he could see all of its beautiful details. He ran his fingers over the black lace and raised his eyes.

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered, pulling a hand through the dancer’s hair.

“I love you.”

They caught each other’s lips at the same time.

“– and he’s broken the world record again!” the commentator interrupted.

Yuuri pulled away and furrowed his brow. “Is that good?”

Victor laughed. “Of course it is!”

 

Yuuri wasn’t ready for the press when they came, but come they did and all of them circled him and Victor like a swarm. He blushed, not used to having a ton of people around him asking questions and waiting eagerly for each answer. He looked at Victor, wondering what he would say.

“Mr. Nikiforov,” one journalist asked, stepping forward. “The whole skating world is eager to know who this young man is. Are the rumours true? Is this your boyfriend?”

Victor smiled. They’d caught him and Yuuri out in the hall as they were about to leave. One of his arms circled around Yuuri and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“This is Yuuri,” he said and smiled wider, “and I’m his boyfriend.”

His answer only made the press even more curious. The questions came one after another without even a pause to let them answer a single one.

Victor answered only one. “He’s a performer and no one can sing and dance like he does!”

Yuuri could see the next question forming in their minds, but Victor swept him away, asking him what he thought of his skating, as if that was it for the press conference.

 

It was customary for the Grand Prix Final to end with a banquet and this year was no different, but Victor kept throwing anxious looks at the door and then at his watch.

“Are you late somewhere?” Chris asked. “Or is that boyfriend of yours late? I thought he’d be here.”

Victor turned to smile at him. “I promised Yakov to be here for 20 minutes and then I will go. I only have two minutes left.”

“Are you ready?” another voice cut in and Chris saw Mila standing behind him. She gave him a friendly smile. “Victor promised to introduce us to his boyfriend.” She nodded at the other Russian skaters standing behind her. “Are you coming with us, Chris?”

 _You mean you didn’t invite_ me _, but you invited them?_ “Of course I am.” He looked at Victor, waiting for a contradiction from him.

Victor nodded, looked at his watch again and headed for the door.

“Time for a real party,” Chris told the other skaters as they followed him.

Judging by their expressions, they had no idea where Victor was taking them.

 

Mila eyed the crowd as the doors to the club opened. They’d slipped out of the banquet unnoticed, taking all of the Russian skaters but Yuri with them.

“I heard that our all-girls club got a male dancer!” She heard someone mutter angrily behind her. “That’s disgusting!”

She resisted the urge to turn around and tell the speaker what she thought of their opinion and, instead, followed everyone else to their table. Somehow Victor had managed to get them the front one.

For a while they sat without saying a word, watching the stage as they realized just what sort of club this was. No wonder Victor wouldn’t let Yuri come with them! Waiters ran around, offering alcohol as dancers on the stage stripped until they barely had anything left.

“There’s a half-naked woman dancing on the stage!” Georgi whispered into Mila’s ear. She wasn’t sure if he sounded fascinated or terrified.

“I don’t mind,” Mila said with a smile. She propped her head up on her arm and watched the dancers. Then she threw a sideways look at Victor.

Why had he brought them here? It was obvious he wasn’t interested in what any of the performers were doing. Maybe his boyfriend picked this as their meeting spot. It was an odd place for a date, anyway.

“So when will your boyfriend get here?” she asked.

“Soon. I think,” he answered.

And then a new performer stepped out onto the stage and a hush fell over the audience. This figure was all covered in jewelry. Long strings of pears dropped down over their chest, enough to cover it completely. There were gold bracelets around their wrists and ankles. Strips of gold fabric stretched out from their back to these bracelets. The figure wore long gold earrings and a string of golden stones over their forehead. Everything sparkled and played in the light, blinding the eye.

The figure opened their mouth and sang in a beautiful deep voice that sent shivers down the spine.

The jewelry jingled with each dance move and then one perfect hand came up and raised a necklace. They released it and let it tumble onto the stage. Down fell the rest of his necklaces in a cascade of light and sparkles, to reveal a bare chest.

“That’s a man!” Mila exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. _The same man they were talking about, I’ll bet!_

He slid his fingers over his chest, giving the audience a playful smile of his golden lips. His hands paused over the gold pasties, as if to take them off, but he appeared to change his mind and they moved on.

The song played as he swung his hips sideways at the audience. It was a familiar tune and made Mila study the performer’s face more closely as she tried to remember where she’d heard it before.

“Oh my god!” She leaned towards Georgi to whisper into his ear. “That’s Victor’s boyfriend! And he’s singing Victor’s short program song in Russian!”

Georgi looked as shocked as she felt.

They turned to look at Victor. There was a blissful smile on his lips and a blush on his cheeks. The blush on his face turned darker as his boyfriend removed more jewelry until he had barely any left.

He was barefoot, but that didn’t keep him from jumping onto their table and continuing his dance right in front of Victor. He lowered himself slowly, bending his knees. With a smile he slid a finger over Victor’s chin and then straightened up.

“Придёт любовь и ничего не поделаешь.” _Comes love, nothing can be done._

He blew Victor a kiss and jumped back onto the stage.

The song ended and the lights turned off.

“Eros!” Victor shouted in the stunned silence that followed.

“Eros!” the audience picked up his cry and chanted his name, clapping along.

The chant pulled Mila in, along with everyone else who sat at the table with her.

 _Holy crap!_ That’s _Victor’s boyfriend?_

Her head was spinning. Eros’s dance was making her question everything she knew about herself.

The stage lights turned on and there Eros was – in a red strapless dress that went down to his ankles this time. A cut all the way up to his upper thigh left one leg completely exposed. He was in elbow-length red gloves and a pair of red heels.

How had he dressed so quickly?

Eros smiled.

On him deep red took on a different hue. It made Mila think of wine. As a new tune started to play and he moved around sensually she was ready to swear that she was drunk.

There were women on the stage around them. A quick glance told Mila the one detail that would’ve normally caught her attention – they were all in suits with long coattails and in white gloves. One stepped up behind him and slid her hands up his sides. He slapped them away.

Several dancers played musical instruments. Some of them stayed at the back of the stage, but two of them tried to win Eros’s attention.

One slid a hand under his chin and turned his head. The other one tapped his shoulder, making him turn back. And then they both grabbed him and pulled him into a dance.

“ _В полумраке пары в танце вечной борьбы кружатся легко, в танго сплелись как лёд и огонь_ ,” Eros sang. _In the semidarkness dancers are locked in an eternal fight, spinning lightly, getting entangled in a tango like ice and fire._

He pushed them away, as if angry with the idea that he would tango with two people at once. Eros turned and wrapped his own arms around himself. Slowly his fingers crawled up his back as he swayed sensually to the music.

Still the song went on, lamenting about a poor woman who was dancing with a man who kept imaging another person in her place. At some point Mila stopped listening to the lyrics, too captivated by the dance, no, performance happening on stage.

It took a lot of self-control to tear her eyes away from him, but Mila managed it. All to look at Victor again.

There was a dreamy smile on Victor’s face.

Some people would’ve objected to their significant other going out in front of an audience and stripping. Some, after winning over a dancer not even half as attractive as Eros would’ve demanded he quit his job and only perform for them.

Victor took them all here to meet his boyfriend and it was obvious from the look on his face that he was extremely proud of him. If all the whispers around them about this being a female dancers only club were true, then there was a strong possibility that Victor got him in here through his influence and now he was enjoying Eros’s debut performance at least as much as everyone else. If not more.

 _Well, you_ are _the one who’ll take him home tonight,_ Mila thought and smiled.

She shifted over to him and elbowed him lightly. “So, Victor, _this_ is your boyfriend?” she whispered.

“I’m the luckiest person in the world,” he whispered back and she suspected that he heard her say something else.

“I can’t argue with that,” she answered with a smile.

Not for the first time she found herself wondering if Victor knew he had the reputation of someone who was unapproachable.

So many skaters had come to her for help (her and pretty much everyone else on the Russian skating team). It had become an inside joke among Yakov’s pupils that Victor was too blind to notice all the attention he was getting. All while showered by the love of the fans and the press. They laughed at the mad theories that went around online about his sex life.

And now here he was: the boyfriend of the sexiest man Mila had ever seen.

She looked across the table at Chris and wondered what he thought about Eros. Chris was obviously enjoying himself as much as Victor was.

Her eyes returned to the stage where Eros was slipping the dress down and off his body to excited screams from the audience.

They screamed louder when the dress hit the stage and the tango continued, as if nothing had changed.

The music came to an end, trapping the performers in their final pose. Eros’s leg was raised and one of the dancer’s hands was on it.

He pulled it free gently as the dancers around him stayed absolutely still. Straightened up, as if fixing an invisible dress, turned away and walked off with a little sway of his hips, his heels clicking on the floor.

And the audience got a chance to breathe at last.

Everyone at the table was turned to give Victor a look. Depending on who was doing the looking, the expression varied from shock to amusement.

Mila thought about the young man she’d glimpsed at the Grand Prix Finals. He hadn’t stood out much then, having dressed in everyday clothes and, so, standing out only as much as the boyfriend of Victor Nikiforov would stand out. Now she could see why Victor had dropped everything to be with him. This was the sort of boy who could beckon anyone with his finger and make them run across the whole world, forgetting everything, even – no, _especially_ – their pants.

And then it really sunk in: _Victor Nikiforov_ was dating a burlesque dancer!

“Well!” she said, realizing that no one else wanted to break the silence. “That was something I’ve never seen before.”

There was some muttered agreement at this.

Victor straightened up in his chair, looking proud as if he’d been praised. “Yuuri promised to join us after his performance.”

 _Of course he did,_ Mila thought as a million questions sprang to her mind. “So while we wait, why don’t you tell us how you met him?

 

When Yuuri joined them he was in a short tight black leather dress with white jewels sewed into the fabric near one shoulder. Two long silver earrings dangled from each of his ears, but what really drew the eye were the fishnet tights he wore over his legs.

They stared at him in mute surprise as Victor got up to his feet and pulled out a chair for him.

Chris was the next one to get up. “Another amazing dance, Yuuri!”

Yuuri blushed slightly and gave him a grateful look as they all sat down. “Thank you.”

Chris caught the tender looks Yuuri and Victor exchanged. He knew the old rule, of course: just because Yuuri was a burlesque dancer didn’t mean that he and Victor were up to anything adventurous in the bedroom, but still he wondered. The question had formed in his mind as soon as Victor confessed he’d slept with Yuuri.

 _But it’s Victor!_ he thought. _But Yuuri doesn’t seem like he wouldn’t settle for anything ordinary. He did pick Victor, after all._

Yuuri put his hand on Victor’s arm and rested his head on his shoulder.

 _On the other hand,_ Chris thought, _there’s something innocent about Yuuri too._

He was sure he’d get it out of Victor eventually, but for now he would help them out and distract everyone else with a dirty story.

 

Victor brought his lips as close to Yuuri’s ear as he dared and whispered, “Yuuri, that… what you were wearing for the first dance… um…”

“You want me to wear my work clothes in bed?” Yuuri raised his head and chuckled. “I can do something better: we have a special room in the back. I have a private show prepared just for you.” He raised his hand and trailed a finger over Victor’s cheek. “I promise I won’t disappoint you,” he whispered.

Victor took Yuuri’s hand and kissed it. “I love you.”

Yuuri’s eyes glowed in the semi-darkness of the room. “I love you too.”

And, much later, when everyone was distracted by a dance routine on the stage that consisted of at least twenty topless female dancers, Yuuri and Victor slipped away to one of the back rooms where Yuuri got a chance to demonstrate everything he was wearing under the dress, some of which he slipped into Victor’s pockets for safekeeping. The private performance ended with Yuuri sitting in Victor’s lap while completely naked, singing softly and doing a sort of dance.

They returned half an hour later when everyone finally got around to ordering food, looking as if they’d only been gone for a few seconds.

Yuuri sat down next to Victor and ordered for the both of them.

“I was starting to think we wouldn’t see you until tomorrow,” Chris admitted, handing his menu to the waiter.

“I can’t leave you just like that,” Yuuri countered, placing his hand over Victor’s and smiling at him. “Tonight you’re all my guests.” His gaze left Victor and passed over everyone seated at the table. “And the Russian figure skating team is always welcome here.” His eyes stopped at the only empty chair at the table. “But I don’t see your coach, Victor.”

The skaters exchanged looks.

“Yakov wouldn’t like this kind of place,” Mila began carefully.

“And whatever gave you that idea?”

They turned at the sound of their coach’s voice and stared at him with their mouths open. The last few months all anyone ever heard was Yakov grumbling and swearing about this “damn boy that Victor abandoned figure skating for”, now here he was and in his best suit too.

“Sorry I’m late,” Yakov said. “What did I miss?”

Yuuri slipped off his chair and walked up to him. “Welcome, Yakov.”

Yakov took his hand and kissed it.

The Russian figure skating team watched in mute shock.

Yuuri laughed and led the coach to the free chair, pulling it out for him. “We were just ordering food,” Yuuri said and returned to his seat. By complete coincidence, his seat was on the opposite side of the table from Yakov.

“So,” Yakov said once he placed his order, “you’re the reason that the last six months I’ve had the biggest headache of my life?”

There was an awkward pause and then everyone spoke up all at once, everyone except for Yuuri and Victor, that is. To their great surprise, the entire Russian skating team and Chris all tried to defend Yuuri at the same time. They all tried to explain that one routine from Yuuri was enough to explain why Victor acted the way he had. That, really, Yakov should have arrived earlier to see it and that he didn’t know what he’d missed.

Yakov held up his hand and everyone went silent.

All eyes were on Yuuri now.

“I am,” Yuuri said, keeping an unwavering gaze on Yakov.

They held their breath, bracing themselves for the explosion that would undoubtedly follow.

Yakov smiled. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs in this chapter are: [ Танго Втроём by Кристина Орбакайте ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vHEU8o8Eyq0) and [ Comes Love by Jamie Cullum](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VzDYBdGKIdY) (which, as it turns out, is also one of those songs that lots of people sang).
> 
> Edit: I completely forgot to mention (sorry about that) that some of the songs in this fic were recommendations from friends, a couple were from requests, but most of them were from a website that Ladyofthefl0wers recommended to me: [ a website with pole dancing music](http://poledancemusic.com/). Yes, such a thing actually exists. Isn't it amazing?
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading, leaving kudos and comments! It honestly means a lot to me when people take the time to write something and even if you’re reading this years from now, I will still be happy to get your comment on what you thought!  
> I tried to include everything about this universe in this fic, but I still have at least one idea that didn’t make it into the last chapter. I don’t know if I will have a fic for prompts for this AU. If you have a specific request, you can send one to [ my Tumblr](http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com) and I’ll do my best to respond to it. I guess, if I get more than 10 prompts, I’ll probably post a fic of prompts for this AU.
> 
> As some of you know, I have a whole list of ideas for fics, but I can’t decide which to write next, so I organized a little vote to help me. See the post [ here](http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com/post/167287543573/vote-for-the-next-fic) for the list of ideas that I have. The post has a link to a survey that lets you vote anonymously for up to three ideas that appeal most to you. It's a google survey, but you don't need an account in any website to be able to vote. Voting ends November 25th, 2017. Thank you so much for participating!
> 
> Hashi-cat was nice enough to put together a playlist for this fic. You can find the one on spotify [ here](https://open.spotify.com/user/hashicat/playlist/6wYNQNrN4WfTYK8z5qv33D?si=yQ-0R0W2TUOrqMScshDZ7A) and the youtube one [ here](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLKzqPXxJyF5-eKQBD9uAgn1c0sFSjBdoi). Thank you so much for making them!!
> 
> Edit: if you ever wondered what their life after this fic is like I have a post of some thoughts I've had on the subject. You can read it [ here](http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com/post/167717778403/some-thoughts-on-yuuri-and-victor-post-comes-love). And I now have a fic for prompts for this AU. You can find it [ here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12866352/chapters/29387478).


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